


Chase The Dawn

by HowardR



Series: Lovestruck Fools [2]
Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Maybe later., Really? I'm supposed to tag this too?, Side Story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:02:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 34,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26502595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HowardR/pseuds/HowardR
Summary: In which Victoria Chase hates herself, Rachel Amber loves ruining things, and Kate Marsh is just trying to help her friends.(A side fic for Dorks and Punks.)
Relationships: Maxine "Max" Caulfield & Kate Marsh, Rachel Amber/Victoria Chase
Series: Lovestruck Fools [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1926808
Comments: 101
Kudos: 41





	1. Kate Marsh's Impeccable Instincts

**Author's Note:**

> Original game by Dontnod Entertainment. Title by the wonderful Holadiven.
> 
> A collection of side-stories and a semi-prequel for Dorks and Punks. Some chapters can be read without reading the base fic, but reading the base fic is suggested. I put quite a bit of effort into it.
> 
> A No-Timetravel AU.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kate is a Mom.

_ “Hello, this is Kate Marsh?” _

_ “Code red, Kate - I repeat, CODE RED.” _

_ “Wha- Max? What is it, what happened?” _

_ “VICTORIA TALKED TO ME, KATE.” _

_ “...I’m on my way.” _

* * *

She knocked thrice.

A pause.

The door opened.

Max looked about as horrible as expected. She was wearing a washed-out grey hoodie, her hair hung in tangled curtains and scraped her shoulders, and the bags under her eyes were thick as eyeliner.

“I brought coffee cake.” Were Kate’s first words to her - and she held out the tupperware container as a peace offering.

Max snatched it like a lifeline.

“I love you, Kate. Have I told you that today?”

Kate smiled. She couldn’t help it.

“Yes you have, Max. At least twice.”

“Well, twice isn’t enough. I love you.”

“Love you too, sweetie. Now - sit down and eat. You need the calories.”

Max rolled her eyes, a fond smile playing on her lips.

“Alright, Mom.”

“Eat your veggies.” She said - and she was only really half joking. Peas were good.

Max giggled, and Kate couldn’t help but laugh, too.

* * *

When Max was done scarfing down her coffee cake - and Kate had gotten her to wipe her mouth, slob that she was - she instantly launched into a rant.

_ “Coffee, _ Kate. Me and Victoria drank  _ coffee.” _

“Victoria and I.” Kate mumbled absently, pouring a cup of tea. Lucky she had given Max that tea set on Valentines - though, honestly, she ended up making more tea with it then Max.

_ “Coffee, _ Kate.”

“So you’ve said.” She put some honey in Max’s cup. She really needed it right about now.

“I don’t think you’re grasping the problem here!”

“Mm. You want milk?”

“Yes, please.”

“Good, because I was going to put it in anyway. You don’t get enough dairy.”

“I eat pizza!”

“Oh, I know, Max. Trust me - it was traumatizing.”

_ “...Coffee.” _ Max sighed, with a dopey grin.

She was like a love-struck puppy.

“Alright, what happened, hun? Fill me in.”

“Okay - okay, okay, okay. Uh. Uhm.”

“Take all the time you need.”

She set down Max’s teacup, and guided her palm to it. Max lifted it and took a sip.

And took a deep breath.

“...Okay. So. Uh. I was out in the courtyard-whatever-place-”

“Campus.” She told Max this at least three times a month.

“Right, campus. Whatever. I was out on the campus-grounds-whatever, in the morning before classes. And Victoria was just like - on the step? Drinking coffee? Like, I think a friend ditched her or something. She didn’t look angry or anything, but she had two cups of coffee, and she was just like. Sitting on the steps. Drinking coffee. And she had on this lipstick - it was like, this red-purplish colour, like velvet or something, so when she took a sip-”

“Focus, Max.”

Max’s eyes had already begun to drift, and her tone was taking on this dreamy quality that Kate recognized only too well.

  
This happened a lot.

“Right. Right, uh. Right. So I just like - went up to her? I was just staring at her lips, and then she looked up, and so I didn’t really - I just - panicked? Oh, but Kate, you should’ve seen her - the sunrise was like, right behind her, so the light touched the edge of her cheekbone-”

_ “Max.” _

She couldn’t help the fond smile on her face - but she could certainly tear Max from her lovestruck follies.

“Uhm. Right. ...Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“Right, anyway. So I just like - tried to talk to her? I don’t even really remember what I said - just some stupid thing about, like, the lighting and how this would be a good shot. I felt so stupid - here I was, ranting about photography to  _ Victoria, _ like a total fucking dork.”

“Aw, Max. You’re the best dork, y’know.”

Max smiled.

“Thanks, Kate.”

“Anyway - so, you talked to her? How’d it go?”

“Uh… you…”

“...Yeeees?” She hummed, twirling her spoon in her tea.

“You were right.” Max mumbled.

Kate smiled. “It’s okay, Max. You’ll figure out that I always am, one of these days.”

“Quiet, you.”

“So? What happened? Come on, don’t leave me hanging - you talked to her…?”

“But she just kinda stared at me for a second - have I talked about how her eyes-?”

_ “Yes, _ Max, you have.”

“Right, sorry, sorry. Uh. She just stared, for a second - and then she just liked… gestured for me to sit down?”

Kate blinked.

“What?”

“I know, right? I thought she was like, waving me off or something for a second, but then she like, patted the seat next to her, and rose her eyebrow - oh God, have I told you about how she-?”

“Max.”

“Uh. Anyway, she patted the seat and just kinda rose her eyebrow, in that like - ‘well?’ way. Y’know?”

Kate furrowed her brow.

“That’s… huh.”

“I know! But I sat down, obviously - and I was scared she was gonna get pissed off or something for a second, but then she just… gave me the other cup of coffee?”

Kate stared at her best friend - and, for a moment, she was just confused.

...And then she began to wonder.

“So, I took the cup, duh.” Max went on - and she was starting to talk with her hands again. “And then she like - God, she’s great - she said something like… God, I dunno! She just said something like, super clever and witty, and I was just - I - God, I’m hopeless, Kate.”

“It’s alright.” Kate said, patting Max’s hand sympathetically - even as her mind began to wander, and some odd dots began connecting. “We’re all hopeless sometimes.”

Max smiled.

“I know. Thanks. But - I just, like, stared at her?”

For a second, the words didn’t register.

And then she stared at Max.

“...Hun.”

“I know!”

_ “Max.” _

“I know! I know. ...I know.”

“...Drink your tea.” She said, because she didn’t really have anything else to say.

Max did.

“...So anyway.” Max mumbled, once she set the cup down again. “Once I… managed to stop staring… I tried to say something smart. And Victoria… I don’t know. I don’t know. She’s like a closed box, Kate. A really beautiful, cold, polished closed box…”

“Max.” She said, for the… fifth time? It felt like the dozenth.

“Sorry. But we… had a conversation?”

“About photography?” Kate set her tea cup down, and thought.

“I mean, yeah. But - Kate.  _ Kate.” _

“Max.” She deadpanned.

“I talked to her.  _ She _ talked to  _ me.” _

“That’s wonderful, Max.” She said - and meant it.

But she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was very wrong here.

“I know, right?!”

She smiled at Max’s wide, giddy grin, and couldn’t really bring herself to worry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, Holadiven, for the name.
> 
> Yes, Kate is OOC. Deal with it. I've decided that Kate is officially the Mom friend. Sue me.
> 
> Wallflower,
> 
> -Howard R.


	2. She Was Nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Victoria doesn't feel a single thing.
> 
> WARNING: Smut, of the most shameless variety.

_ “Fuck!” _

She hated herself.

She hated everything. She hated the glint of spiderwebs in the dim light of the musty closet. She hated the smell of dust choking the air, and the light spilling through the cracks in the door, and the muffled sounds of partygoers  _ just outside they had to be quiet. _

But most of all, she hated herself.

She hated herself, because of how much she couldn’t help but love the feeling of Rachel’s teeth against her skin.

Rachel, Dawn, Amber. Whatever. Whoever.

They were all the same, in the end - all brought together in this helpless haze, with their sharp grin and impossibly flawed skin.

_ “God, _ you’re perfect.” Dawn whispered - and hands crawled along her ribs, under her loose shirt, and  _ this _ was why she had dressed casual - she had tried to lie to herself, but she had always been bad at that, she’d been trained to spot lies for too long-

She was done with this shit - she hadn’t yanked Amber in here to be teased again, then had been the time for teasing,  _ now _ was the time for  _ action. _

She gripped Rachel’s shoulders and slammed her against the nearest wall - and her mouth pulled back in a feral snarl.

“Do you  _ ever. Stop. Talking?” _

And she didn’t give her a chance to answer, because, at the end of the day,  _ she _ was  _ Victoria Fucking Chase. _

She went for the most sensitive chord in Amber’s neck, and the girl was wonderfully imperfect putty in her hands.

_ “Oh, shit _ \- you - _ ah! _ \- you fucking  _ cheater _ \-  _ shit, Chase, not so _ \- oh  _ fuck!” _

Dawn would have hickeys.

Dawn would have  _ marks. _

From  _ her. _

She hated herself.

She loved this.

She hated it more.

She let up - but Rachel,  _ bitch that she was, _ refused to let her keep the upper hand after that.

It was practically like she had flipped a switch. One moment, she was digging into Amber’s neck - the next, Dawn was grabbing her by the hips and going for her jawline.

Rachel smiled against her cheek, and went for her ear, and now it was her turn to melt because  _ shit. _

That was the problem, really. Dawn was just too good at this - and she  _ relished  _ it.

Rachel’s unnaturally long tongue curled against her ear, and her back arched helplessly.

She felt Dawn smirk against her flesh, before she began to nip at the rim of her ear.

“What’s wrong,  _ Viccy?” _ She  _ purred, _ hand running along the skin of her waist under her jeans in a gesture that was uncharacteristically intimate. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Clever.” She hissed under her breath, trying to repress a whine. “You need new material,  _ Dawn.” _

“Oh, doll,  _ hardly.” _ Rachel hummed back, sounding very satisfied. “I’ve got all the material I need right here.”

She pulled back, and Victoria took the opening.

She darted forward, and grabbed Dawn’s hair in an iron grip.  _ Something _ flashed across the girl’s eyes, but then Victoria  _ yanked _ back, and everything else was washed out by the perfect moan that left her prey.

_ “Enough.” _ She whispered, in a voice that could cut glass.

Dawn’s phone rang.

* * *

Rachel loved this.

She loved it when Victoria got in a  _ mood. _ She was never sure what caused it - Victoria was tight-lipped, that was for sure - but it always made her easier to rile up, and far more domineering.

Usually, it only took one well-placed jab to get Victoria forcing her to her knees.

And it looked like Victoria was about to do exactly that - if the way she was holding Rachel’s hair was any indicator. Which it usually was.

Sometimes she thought that she was in love with Victoria. Other times she thought that she was just in lust.

It was complicated. And now wasn’t the time to think about it.

Her phone rang.

She ignored it, in favor of Victoria’s cold glare.

_ God, _ she loved this.

“Kinky.” She hummed under her breath, sending Victoria a  _ look _ from under her eyelids. She could tell that it worked just as well on Viccy as it did on anyone else, no matter how much the blonde must loath it. 

Victoria glared at her like she was grime caked on the bottom of her shoe.

She grinned back - until Viccy let her hair go.

She blinked.

And - instead of the usual forcing her to her knees - Viccy lunged at her.

She didn’t have time to be properly confused before Viccy was  _ right there, _ lips pulled back in something closer to a grimace then a sneer, breath hot and humid against her face.

And then Viccy was kissing her.

She melted.

Long, pale fingers came up to frame her jawline, oddly cold against her flesh. She couldn’t help herself - she leaned in, back arching against Victoria’s thin waist, and she wrapped her arms around the blonde’s shoulders, pulling her in.

_ This wasn’t normal. _

The voice was far,  _ far _ in the back of her mind - but it didn’t quiet itself, even as Viccy’s tongue began to slide past her lips, almost curiously.

_ Sure, Viccy’ll kiss me now and again - but not… like this. _

_ God, _ it was wonderful.

Why couldn’t she do this more often?

Rachel’s hands reached into her hair - and hesitated.

Before pulling it out of its tail.

It was a risky move. Even - no,  _ especially _ in moods like these, Victoria wanted her hair back. But Rachel had always loved the look of Viccy’s hair when it was out of that tail - the way she had worn it when they were kids. Curly, short but messy, barely touching her shoulders and bangs covering her ears.

It was what she always imagined Viccy looked like.

She had two images of Victoria. The cold, Chase mask, with hair back and eyes impassable - and her Viccy. Hair down, eyes sparkling and wide, a vulnerable, rare, passing smile touching her lips.

She wasn’t sure why Victoria had to hate Viccy so much.

She wasn’t even sure if the two were really separate in any way.

She just liked to think they were.

She pulled back, nipping at Viccy’s bottom lip and letting it escape with a glossy  _ pop. _

She was beautiful like this.

And, to her continued surprise, Victoria didn’t look mad.

Something in her eyes sparkled.

Her hair hung in threads.

And then Viccy was fumbling for her waistline, gripping the bottom of her shirt.

She reluctantly slipped her hands off Viccy’s shoulders, and held them up. She instantly went back in once her shirt was off - but Viccy was apparently uninterested in letting her have  _ any _ say in this.

Because she pushed her back against the wall, eyes sharp and bubbling.

Her hands fumbled for purchase, and found the wall.

Viccy raked her eyes up and down Rachel’s body - she felt like she was being x-rayed.

And then, suddenly - she smiled. Wide, and teasing.

“No bra?”

And Rachel - to her horror - felt a flush creep down her neck.

Viccy grinned wider.

“I must’ve left it in the bathroom.” Rachel muttered. Viccy leaned in, smile wide and bright. Gloating.

“What a  _ bold _ fashion choice, Dawn.”

Rachel rolled her eyes.

“Please, Viccy, don’t insult me. This wasn’t a  _ fashion choice.” _

Viccy kept grinning, leaning in a little further. Her breath tickled Rachel’s nose, and her focus wavered slightly.

“I beg to differ, hun. Sure it was - and I’ve gotta say,”

Viccy’s hand ran down her collar, and between her breasts - not even really teasing her. More… accentuating her bare flesh.

“I approve.” She whispered with a grin, sharp and dangerous.

“I’m-”

_ Hngh! _

Her back arched as Victoria tweaked her nipple, sharply and without warning. She glared at the blonde - very aware that, suddenly, she was on the low end of this fight.

“I’m happy to hear it, Viccy.” She managed to grit out, teeth clenched to stop another embarrassing noise leaving her.

Viccy  _ tsked _ lowly, a bit of chiding in the sound.

“What would your parents think, hmm?” She hummed, slowly dragging a finger around her nipple. Her back arched further - and she couldn’t stop the tiny whine that left her, weak and pleading.

This wasn’t how this was supposed to work.

_ Brrring! _

She started - and made another embarrassing little  _ hngh, _ when Viccy’s nail grazed her nipple.

Viccy raised a sharp eyebrow, the hint of a grin touching her lips.

“You better get that.”

Trying to ignore the crawling feeling under her skin, she fished the phone out of her pocket - glancing at the screen once.

_ Chloe. _

She accepted the call as fast as she could, and brought it up-

_ “Ooh!” _

Viccy grinned widely, grinding her thigh between Rachel’s legs.

_ Whore, _ she mouthed. Viccy grinned wider.

She grit her teeth - ignoring the familiar voice filtering through her phone - and managed a strained,

_ “Fuck off, Chloe.” _

**“-Alrighty then!”**

_ Click. _

This was why she loved Chloe.

The second the phone was off, though, she moaned - grinding against Viccy’s thigh helplessly.

Viccy put a finger to her lips, a sharp grin stretching across her face.

“Shh. We’re in  _ public, _ Dawn.” She emphasized carefully, glancing at the door.

Though, oddly enough, she didn’t sound all that concerned.

“F- _fuck you.”_ She managed to grit out, head falling back against the wall with a  _ thunk. _

“You wish.” Viccy said, and it really only occurred to her at that moment that Victoria was acting oddly…

Happy.

“Well, how about that.” She managed to say - though she had to bite back a whimper a moment later, because  _ shit. _ “The ice queen has a sense of humour? Someone pinch me - I must be dreaming.”

Something flashed across Victoria’s face, for a moment.

It vanished like smoke.

“I guess I hang up my crown for you.” She hummed - and Rachel groaned, because she suddenly pushed her thigh up a  _ little _ more, and she was  _ so close. _ “Consider it an honour, Dawn. I guess even  _ I _ can’t act refined around a reprobate like you.”

She pushed against Viccy’s thigh - not even really hearing her.

“I -  _ shit.” _ She hissed, as Viccy refused to let up.

“I- I’m close.  _ I’m close.” _ She whimpered.

Viccy,  _ finally, _ slipped a hand into her pants - and plunged two fingers into her, all the way to the hilt.

And then, those long, cold fingers  _ curled- _

She unraveled.

* * *

It was only as Dawn pushed against her fingers, coming completely undone beneath her, that she really realized what had felt wrong. Like an itch at the back of her head, whispering that something wasn’t quite how it was  _ supposed _ to be.

She…

She was-

_ “Viccy!” _

_ She whipped around like a shot, eyes wide and a grin already touching her lips. _

_ “Dawn!” She called back - already raising her fist, pamphlet clenched. _

_ “Dawn, I got the part!!” _

_ Rachel skidded to a halt, eyes wide. _

_ “R-really?” _

_ She couldn’t help it. _

_ She knew this was completely unfit behavior for a Chase, and it was a childish display, and that her parents probably wouldn’t even let her be in the play when they figured out, but, for right now - she let that all go. _

_ And she flung her arms around Rachel, squeezing tight enough to crack her back. _

_ “I got the part, Dawn!” She squealed - and felt a wide, real smile pull at her lips for the first time in weeks. _

…

She was  _ nothing. _

She pulled back, gripping the doorknob - cold as ice beneath her fingers.

And rushed out of the dark, dingy closet, already trying to push all her thoughts into the back of her head.

* * *

**That never happened.**

It was the first text she’d received from Viccy in weeks.

She typed back a quick,

duh

...And that was that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of today - September 24th, 2020 - I have spent one half-year on this site. As of today, I have received a total of 1500 kudos, 330 comments, and published over 240000 words. And, as of today, I have published my third piece of smut.
> 
> Wallflower,
> 
> -Howard R.


	3. Brooke Scott }:/

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Brooke Scott is determinant.

Brooke Scott was determinant.

She’d read through dictionaries and thesauruses alike to find the word that best fit her personality. She’d decided it was determinant. It wasn’t that she was clever (though she was) or sarcastic (though she was) or even strong-willed (though she was), she was simply determinant.

Determinant;

_ Adjective _

1:  serving to determine or decide something.

Yep; that was her. Plus, it was a criminally unknown vocabulary word, that really should’ve been taught to her in the seventh grade. Blame the dysfunctional schooling system, she supposed.

Brooke Scott was determinant. She served to determine or decide things - whether it was for herself or for others. She wanted, not so much to  _ know, _ but to have  _ decided. _ She wanted to have a firm, educated stance on every problem, issue or just plain event.

And, to others, she was often seen as just a means to that end. As someone to ask for grades, or to cheat off of, or some ridiculous something or other of that nature. Of course, she always turned them down. People wised up eventually - though it was a bit  _ too _ eventual, in her opinion.

Well, blame the continued stupidity of the human race, she supposed.

The human race just wasn’t very determinant. They didn’t want to decide  _ anything. _

People thought she hated anyone that wasn’t smart, which was wrong. Okay, sure, she didn’t  _ respect _ anyone who wasn’t smart; but that was a different issue altogether. She hated people who  _ couldn’t fucking decide. _

So many people wanted to stay on the fence about something so they didn’t upset people, or didn’t care enough to form their own opinion and just went with the masses, or - worst of all - lied to themselves and try to say that they had an opinion that they didn’t. Brooke had always been wonderful at lying - it came to her as easily as deciding did. But lying to  _ herself? _

That was just ridiculous. Ridiculous, ridiculous, ridiculous. She thought that quite a few people were ridiculous.

She liked finding a label for herself - she  _ loved _ finding labels for others.

It was always so  _ easy, _ too.

Look, over there - someone’s  _ cloying. _ Down there, by the lamppost - oh you can just tell that he’s  _ sedentary. _ Urgh, someone  _ complaisant _ \- get them away from her.  _ Altruistic? _ Blergh!

Oh, God, not someone else  _ bibulous. _ So many stepdads these days…

Oh, her? She’s  _ voluble. _

It shocked her that other people didn’t have the vocabulary that she did - how could they not want to know these things? How could they stand not having the right word for something?

It was ridiculous.

Laughable.

Grotesque.

God, here comes Warren again -  _ impolitic. _

Uh oh, the Dana Ward train is arriving in the station -  _ empathetic, _ she was. Oh, and self-centered, plus  _ very _ bad at consoling, but those were just bonus bad traits.

And don’t forget - empathetic contains the word  _ pathetic _ for a reason. At least, Brooke thinks it probably does - some clever son of a bitch made the word that way, she’s almost sure of it.

Brooke Scott sat on the step, watched the people rolling by, and judged them.

It was fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brooke is my spirit animal.
> 
> Is she here for a reason? Maybe. I mean, who knows really.
> 
> The author? Pssh.
> 
> Wallflower,
> 
> -Howard R.


	4. If You Don't Open This Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kate gets plunged into memories - and then, just as violently, gets pulled out of them.
> 
> Meant to be read after Dorks and Punks, Chapter 30: Like Mother, Like Daughter.

_ Like mother, like daughter, right? _

_ Like mother, like daughter, right? _

_ Like mother, like daughter, right? _

The sentence echoed in her head, over and over, as she stumbled to her room.

_ Like mother, like daughter, right? _

Her hands trembled as she fumbled for the doorknob.

_ Like mother, like daughter, right? _

The moment the door was closed, she crumbled like a pile of sand. Her knees folded out under the pressure of her body, and her head  _ thunked _ against the door.

_ Like mother, like daughter, right? _

A flash of pain went through her skull, and she winced.

Her head had hit the door pretty hard. She’d have a bump.

_ Like mother, like daughter, right? _

_ (“Mom? Does God really hate gay people?” _

_ “Don’t ask stupid questions, Kate.” _

_ “...Okay, Mom.”) _

_ Like mother, like daughter, right? _

_ (“Mom? What if… what if I was gay?” _

_ “Hm? Oh, Kate. What’s that?” _

_ “What if I was gay, Mom? You guys would still love me, right?” _

_ “Don’t be ridiculous, honey.” _

_   
_ _ “...Okay Mom.”) _

_ Like mother, like daughter, right? _

_ (“Momma? Can you help me with my homework?” _

_ “Ask your father, hun. Mom’s busy.” _

_ “Okay Mom.”) _

_ (“Dad? Mom… Mom doesn’t hate me, does she?” _

_ “....Of course not, darling. We both love you very much.” _

_ “Okay Dad.”) _

_ Like mother, like daughter, right? _

_ (“You did WHAT?!” _

_ “I- I didn’t mean to, it was an accident-!” _

_ Her words were cut off by a ringed hand. _

_ She tasted blood.) _

_ Like mother, like daughter, right? _

She buried her head in her hands, and lost herself to memories.

_ (“Dad… it hurts…” _

_ “I know it does, honey.” _

_ “Momma hates me…” _

_ “No she doesn’t, Kate. Don’t ever think that. Momma’s strict on you because she knows you could do better.” _

_ “...Dad?” _

_ “Yeah, hun?” _

_ “Would  _ you _ still love me if I was gay?” _

_ “Of course I would, honey. And so would Momma.” _

_ “...Okay Dad.”) _

_ Like mother, like daughter, right? _

_ (“Dad - you know Max, right?” _

_ “Hm? Oh, yeah, the Caulfield girl. Yeah, I know her. Nice kid.” _

_ “Okay.” _

_ “Why do you ask, honey?” _

_ “I was… just wondering.”) _

_ (“Mom? Can I go to Max’s house tomorrow?” _

_ “Don’t be ridiculous, honey. We’ve got a sermon to attend tomorrow.” _

_ “But Max said-” _

_ “Don’t talk back to me, Kate.” _

_ “...Okay Mom.”) _

_ Like mother, like daughter, right? _

_ (“Oh - heya, Kate!” _

_ “Hi Max.” _

_ “Wait - you’ve got… a bruise…” _

_ “Oh. Right. Uhm - I’ll get that cleaned up. Sorry.” _

_ “Kate? How did you get that?” _

_ “I… walked into one of the doorpole things.” _

_ “Heh. You always were my clumsy Kate.” _

_ “And I always will be.” _

_ “...Yeah. Let’s go put some ice on that, huh?”) _

_ Like mother, like daughter, right? _

_ (“You’re my daughter, and you will do as I say!!” _

_ “I can talk to whoever I want to, Mom!”) _

_ (“Oh - over here, Kate!” _

_ “I’m coming, Max, I’m coming.” _

_ “Slowly. You’ve… got a lotta make-up on today.” _

_ “I’m trying out a new look.”) _

_ Like mother, like dau- _

“Marsh, if you do not open this door right now, I’m going to break it down.”

Kate blinked, and looked up for the first time in… seconds? Five minutes? It was hard to tell.

“Who…  _ Brooke?” _

“Yes, that is my name, Marsh. Door. Now, preferably.”

She shuffled to her feet, and flung the door open - wiping her face with her sleeve and sniffling.

Brooke glanced up from her phone - and blinked.

“...Oh.”

There was quiet for a moment.

“...Interesting new look, Marsh.” Brooke said, shouldering past her into the room and running her eyes over the place. “I must say, I wasn’t aware the ‘miserable wreck’ appearance was back in style. I’ll have to note it down sometime.”

“I’ve never been in style, Brooke.” She said, automatically adjusting her bedsheets a little. Her room was pretty meticulous, but it never hurt to tidy up a little.

“Right. I forget.” Brooke stepped towards the bathroom door, and gestured to it. “This is the bathroom, then?”

“...Yes?”

“Alright. Get in.” She ordered, flinging the door open.

“This is  _ my _ room, Brooke.” Kate couldn’t help but point out, sending the girl a  _ look. _

“Astute of you to notice, Marsh.” Brooke said, meeting her glare with a delicate lack of response. “Now get in this bathroom before I force you.”

“As if you could.” Kate muttered - but went to the bathroom anyway.

She didn’t know Brooke very well. They were in the same history class - and, since neither of them had apparently had any friends, they’d partnered together now and again. Brooke had never seemed to pay her any attention, and often did the majority of the work herself without consulting her.

And yet, here she was - knocking at her apartment door and taking over the place.

She stepped into the bathroom - and Brooke flicked the lights on.

“Chin up.”

Kate tilted her head up.

Instantly, Brooke took a comb and began to work on her hair.

She blinked.

“...I can comb my own hair, Brooke.”

“Your hands are trembling.”

_ That _ shut her up. She glanced down - and, indeed, her hands were ever-so-slightly shaking.

“I said chin up, Marsh.”

Kate sent her a mild glare - but her annoyance was mostly for show.

“What-”

She hissed, as the comb met a tangle in her hair.

“Sorry.” Brooke said - and she actually did sound the tiniest bit sorry.

The  _ tiniest _ bit.

“What are you doing here?” Kate managed, gritting her teeth - Brooke was  _ really _ not gentle with a comb.

“You’re always outside at six o’ clock to hand out church pamphlets. You missed your mark - and I apparently had such a depressing lack of entertainment that I decided to investigate. I decided the door with the bible verse was yours, and well. Here we are.”

Brooke seemed to decide her hair was done, and reached forward to tilt her chin back down. Kate sent her another mild glare, which Brooke ignored.

“Where do you keep the paper towels in this hovel?”

Kate sent her a glance.

_ “...Hovel?” _

Brooke rolled her eyes.

“Yes,  _ hovel. _ It’s a good - and frankly, fitting - word. This place is awful.”

Kate sent a confused - and slightly worried - glance around her apartment.

“It is?”

Brooke raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, Marsh, it is. But now isn’t the time. Paper towels.”

“I’ve got wipes in the cabinet.” Kate said, gesturing to the cabinet in question - which happened to be right in front of her, under the sink.

Brooke only acknowledged her by crouching and opening said cabinet.

“...Mm. You’re meticulous.” Brooke said, with a distinct lack of prompting - standing straight and putting a pack of wipes on the countertop.

“Meticulous?” Kate said, with a confused blink.

“Meticulous, 1A: showing great attention to detail; very careful and precise.” Brooke said. “I was referring to your organizing habits. Most people have their cabinets in disarray. Same with their dorms.”

Brooke tilted her head so she was staring at her face, and wiped her cheeks. Kate scrunched her face up a little, and shied away from the childish treatment.

“Still.” Brooke ordered, holding her by the chin and trying again. Kate - reluctantly - stayed still.

“Did you… know that definition off the top of your head?” Kate said, trying to ignore the way Brooke stared at her face - like she was studying a dissected animal.

“Yes, well. We all have our hobbies. I needed something to occupy my time - school was unfortunately not up to the task. So I decided to expand my vocabulary a bit.”

“...I knew what meticulous meant.” Kate felt she needed to clarify.

“I’m sure you did, Marsh. Now keep your mouth closed - I doubt this wipe tastes good.”

...Kate did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, Brooke is my new favorite. I know parents aren't supposed to pick their favorite child - but I can't help it.
> 
> That moment you realize everyone hates Kate, and you should've published this a little earlier.
> 
> I *really* was not expecting all the Kate hate (hah, that rhymes). I guess that's what happens when you don't establish a character super well, and then have them act like a bitch for seemingly next to no reason.
> 
> And - wait a second. Is Brooke actually going to be... important?!
> 
> No, surely not. I mean - she's a side character. And she was only introduced in the side fic. The only possible way she could become important is if this side fic became more of a fic of its own and less a side piece for a main fic... but that's just impossible. I mean, I'm sure the mysterious author of this story - who's probably very handsome and smart - wouldn't pull the rug out from under all of us like that.
> 
> ...Surely not.
> 
> Wallflower,
> 
> -Howard R.


	5. It Must've Been Lonely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Brooke has weird thoughts.

Brooke Scott had weird thoughts.

Sometimes, she wanted to rip out her fingernails. They looked quiet easy to rip out, honestly. Practically begging for it. She’d stare at them - always too long, she let them grow out until they broke - and wondered what if would feel like to rip them from her hands.

It would hurt like hell, of course. But pain had always been more of a curiosity to her then anything - fascinating. Truly fascinating.

She hated Kate Marsh.

Brooke liked having things determined. She was very rarely wrong. But when she’d labeled Kate as  _ blithe, _ she hadn’t seen her… like this.

It made her quite hateable.

And pitiable, of course.

Brooke hated pity. Both feeling it, and being subjected to it.

When she was done wiping Kate Marsh’s very stupid, very pitiable, very  _ undecided _ face, she tugged at the girls shoulder and led her to her bed. Kate sent her a very mild glare, which she ignored.

She knew she was acting like the girl’s mother - but maybe Kate Marsh needed some mothering right now. And who was Brooke to deny her that right.

_ (Of course, it hardly had to be her that subjected the girl to this. Didn’t she have friends? She must have - she was- _

_ Urgh. _

_ -likable.) _

“What happened?” Brooke said, maybe a little callously - but hell, who was going to stop her? Not Kate Marsh, that was for sure.

“I… what do you care?” Kate Marsh finally said, keeping her head down and sending her a glare from beneath her bangs.

_ (It was a valid question - one that Brooke most certainly didn’t have an answer for.) _

“I don’t. Spill.” Brooke said instead, sitting down on the floor across from her.

There was a pause.

“Or don’t.” Brooke offered, laying back. “But I’m not leaving until you do.”

“This is my dorm.” Kate Marsh pointed out, quite rightly.

“How observant of you.”

Kate Marsh huffed. Brooke felt a smug smile pull at her lips, because she could hear that Kate Marsh was about to spill.

“I… got in a fight with a friend.” Kate Marsh said, very reluctantly and overly slowly.

“Want to talk about it?” Brooke said, still laying back and staring up at Kate Marsh’s ceiling.

Unacceptable. She had not a single glow-in-the-dark star plastered there.

Just plain macabre, this place was.

Brooke crossed her arms behind her head, and crossed her legs, too. Crossing appendages had always been a pastime for her.

“No.” Kate Marsh said, after a moment.

“Okay.”

Brooke waited.

“...Are you… going to leave?”

“Nope.” Brooke said.

“Why not?”

“Why should I?” Brooke fired back.

_ (She had no idea why not.) _

“Because… this is my dorm?”

“And?” Brooke said - because really, it being Kate Marsh’s dorm was information she already had, and thus, clearly had no effect on her decision. At least, reiterating it wouldn’t.

“And you have your own?” Kate Marsh tried.

And failed.

“That I do. I’m going to play some music.”

Brooke pulled out her phone to do just that, while Kate Marsh spluttered.

“Wha - this isn’t your dorm, Brooke!”

“I’m aware of that, Marsh.” Brooke said - because people didn’t like it when you used their full names, and Kate didn’t quite fit yet.

Kate Marsh made some vaguely frustrated, confused noises.

Brooke opened her playlist and hit shuffle.

She laid back - and didn’t quite smile, when Marx’s Theme came on.

“What… is that  _ video game music?” _

Brooke sat up a little, so she could send Kate Marsh a glance.

“Yes.”

Kate Marsh continued to make various meaningless sounds.

It was truly a horrible display. Sounds were meant for communication - why would you make such meaningless, emotional ones? It had always confused her.

Unless she was talking, Kate Marsh shouldn’t be making any sounds at all.

“Marsh, please stop making those noises. It’s unbecoming.”

Kate Marsh stopped. Brooke refrained from smiling.

Smiles had never fit on her face. Just as odd noises were unbecoming for Kate Marsh - smiles were unbecoming of her. Unless they were smug ones.

“...Unbecoming?” Kate Marsh said - as if it were confusing.

Brooke sighed.

“Unbecoming, 1A-”

“I  _ know what it means.” _

Kate Marsh sounded frustrated.

Brooke supposed she could relate. Being told things she already knew was cumbersome.

“Well then - yes. Unbecoming.”

“That’s… does that mean you like me?”

Brooke blinked.

“What?” She said, sitting up - because this was interesting.

“Well, I mean - if you don’t like noises like that, and you think that they don’t fit me, then… surely that means you think I’m too good to do things like that? Right?”

_...Fascinating. _

She was right, of course - not that Brooke was going to say so, oh no. Don’t be ridiculous. That would just be wildly unfitting.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I think that you making those noises just doesn’t quite fit - it’s no statement on your likability of lack thereof.”

“...Oh.” Kate Marsh said - and she looked, oddly enough, something close to disappointed.

Brooke, for one wild, inescapably bizarre moment, was tempted to go back on something she’d said for the first time in months at least.

Then the moment passed.

Thank God.

Brooke laid back again, considering the mystery of Kate Marsh and her distinctly star-less ceiling.

“Well -  _ do _ you like me?” Kate Marsh said - and it was really quite a pathetic, stupid question.

Brooke’s wavering estimation of her value stopped wavering, and went firmly back down.

“No.”

“...Oh.”

“Don’t take it personally.” Brooke said, crossing her legs the other way. “I don’t like anyone.”

“Not…  _ anyone?” _

“I truly do not understand people’s obsession with repeating things I say. Yes,  _ not anyone. _ Why do you think I was always partnerless in history?”

“...Because your friends were in other classes?”

“I don’t have  _ friends.” _

“That’s…”

Kate Marsh trailed off. Brooke waited for her to finish.

“...I’m sorry.”

Brooke blinked.

“For what?”

“About you not having friends. It must’ve been lonely.”

Her estimation of Kate Marsh firmed up even more.

Wonderful - another worthless one. She needed to stop letting people get her hopes up.

“I’ve never been lonely in my life, Marsh. Not having friends was a decision I made a long time ago - it’s not an  _ oversight, _ it’s a  _ choice.” _

Kate Marsh didn’t respond.

Brooke didn’t take the time to wonder what she was thinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What an odd pair of people to put in the same room.
> 
> Marx's Theme is from Kirby Super Star. It's my favorite song in the game, and is in... I think 191/8? The signature keeps changing with pretty much no rhyme or reason, which is why I love it. It goes, uh... hold on, I managed to record it in a notebook somewhere so I could follow along... ah-ha! 6/8, 6/8, 7/8, 3/8, 3/8, 9/8, 6/8, 5/8, 5/8, 6/8, 6/8, 7/8, 6/8, 9/8, 6/8, 5/8, 5/8, 6/8, 6/8, 6/8, 6/8, 5/8, 5/8, 6/8, 6/8, 5/8, 5/8, 6/8, 5/8, 6/8, 6/8, 6/8, 6/8, repeat. Or, in simpler terms - 191/8.
> 
> Isn't that just wonderfully crazy? I like to think Brooke would love it too.
> 
> Wallflower,
> 
> -Howard R.


	6. It Won't Happen Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kate is interested.

Brooke was… weird.

Okay, sure, in class, Kate had gathered that she wasn’t exactly the mosy likable person on the block. People had talked about her behind her back - said she was just another weirdo, a stalker, super creepy, etc. And sure, she had never seemed super nice or interesting when they partnered - she just kinda… did all the work herself.

But now, Brooke Scott was laying in her apartment, listening to video game music and not really acknowledging her.

If Max had been laying here, doing this, it would’ve qualified as a hangout between friends. But Brooke wasn’t her friend, and didn’t seem interested in changing that.

And yet, every now and then, she’d look away - and then look back, and find Brooke staring at her with something that wasn’t quite disgust and wasn’t quite fascination.

Brooke was laying in the middle of her floor, and Kate had to say she was a little confused.

But Brooke didn’t seem to care if she was confused.

Clearly.

“Brooke?” Kate said, without any real question in mind. It was just kinda general confusion that made her end that sentence with a questioning lilt.

“Kate Marsh.” Brooke said, with a distinct lack of inflection.

“Why… why are you still here?”

Kate didn’t want to be rude - but this was a weird mostly-stranger, barging into her room and laying in the middle of her floor.

In skintight jeans.

And then continually crossing and uncrossing her legs.

“Why do you ask?” Brooke said, sitting up. “You want me to leave?”

“...Kinda, yeah.” Kate said, a tad bit reluctantly. She didn’t want to be rude, but…

“Alright. Tell me to get out.”

“...What?”

“Tell me, right now. Just say ‘get out, Brooke’ - and I will.”

Well that was an… oddly specific requirement.

And it seemed a little rude…

Brooke laid back again, crossing her legs  _ (she really had to stop doing that) _ and listening to her music.

Well, she could… stay a little longer? Probably. Yeah, it… wasn’t like Kate was expecting company.

She didn’t say anything.

Brooke didn’t either.

“Why  _ are _ you here, though?” Kate said, because she wasn’t letting this point go just like that. “I mean… you said you don’t like me, right?”

“Left.”

“...What?”

“Yes, I said I don’t like you. Your point?”

“Well, I mean,” Kate said, feeling a little stupid, “it seems obvious that there’s no reason to stay in the dorm of someone you don’t like, when you have your own in the same building.”

Brooke didn’t have anything to say to that, for a moment.

“...Well, honestly, this just won’t do.”

“...What?” Kate said.

“Get up.” Brooke said, sitting up herself and turning off her music. “I need your help with this one.”

“...That… you…  _ what?” _ Kate tried again - but she was already getting up.

Brooke was weirdly persuasive.

“Come on - we’re taking a trip to my room.”

“...Okay?” Kate said, because really, why not at this point?

Brooke walked to her door, and Kate didn’t look at her.

* * *

Brooke’s dorm was… organized.

That was Kate’s first thought when she stepped inside, though it wasn’t quite entirely accurate. Brooke’s desk was a little messy - and the entire room was a little cluttered, honestly. Just… in an organized way.

Colourful posters plastered the closet door, and a poster ordering that she _stay calm and do math_ glared at her from the slightly-ajar bathroom door. The majority of the posters were for movies, though - both famous and obscure ones. _Star Wars,_ _Terminator, Blade Runner, Die Hard,_ and _Total Recall_ were all movies she’d heard of - but _Source Code, Interstellar, Hiding Out,_ and _Short Circuit_ were all ringing a distinct lack of bells. She made a mental note to check out _Short Circuit,_ though - the robot on the poster was pretty cute.

There was a potted plant on her windowsill that looked oddly dangerous - like a breed of venus flytrap. Maybe it was one.

There was also a bookshelf, that had one of its four shelves dedicated to books and the other three dedicated to movies. When Brooke started opening cabinets, it became quite clear that there was a distinct lack of food in the dorm - and instead, the space was taken up by movies, comics, and books. The last being mostly… dictionaries, for some reason. And thesauruses.

She also had a few Chinese and Spanish dictionaries and books laying around, as well as one that looked to be about and/or in Latin.

She also had a copy of  _ The Prince _ by someone called Machiavelli, who sounded vaguely familiar, presented in an oddly proud way - considering how battered the copy was.

When Brooke saw her staring at it, she diverted her attention from searching for… whatever she was looking for, to explain.

“It’s a first edition, in English. I haven’t quite learned Italian yet, but it’s on the list. It’s from the sixteen-forties, so… pretty damn valuable. It’s half the reason I have anti-theft measures in here.”

Kate sent a startled glance around, and Brooke made a tiny, weird noise that she quickly stifled.

“No, you won’t be able to  _ see _ them. Don’t be idiotic. That would kinda defeat the point. Now where are those damn…”

Brooke’s sentence trailed off as she kept running through cabinets. She had a very weird amount of them - and a weird amount of little hideaway spaces she was using to store random things.

“Where… is all your food?” Kate finally asked, because it was actually starting to concern her a little.

“I eat take-out. Chinese food, mostly. Best part about Chinese - you always have leftovers.”

“Isn’t that… expensive?”

“Eh. Less expensive then you’d think. I don’t need to eat that much - never have.”

That was…

Brooke was weirdly interesting - and Kate was rapidly finding herself almost liking her.

Which was probably bad. After all - Brooke didn’t like her. And do unto others, and so on.

She couldn’t bring herself to really care. Brooke was interesting - she was interested. It made perfect sense.

Suddenly, Brooke slammed a cabinet home - on her own fingers. Of course, Kate didn’t see this - but she certainly heard the single, strangled  _ “Fuck!” _ that Brooke let out as a result.

“Woah - uh, are you… okay?” She said, because Brooke was cradling her hand and gritting her teeth very hard - but, other then that, looked… remarkably unaffected. Considering how hard she had slammed that cabinet. Kate wouldn’t be shocked if she had broken fingers.

“Yes, I’m fine.” Brooke said instantly - and, again, aside from her grit teeth, she sounded… almost like she was telling the truth. “That was stupid of me. I wasn’t paying proper attention.”

“It’s… it’s not a problem - we’ve all done it before…” Kate said - because Brooke sounded honestly frustrated with herself, which Kate didn’t consider fair.

“Yes - now, we have. This is my first time, though. I’ve broken my perfect track record.”

Kate blinked.

“Wait… really? This is the first time you’ve slammed your fingers in something? I did it in a car door just like… a month ago.”

Brooke just shrugged, still cradling her hand.

“What can I say. I pay attention. Usually.” Brooke stared at her hand like it had betrayed her.

“Here - let me see it… you slammed it pretty hard…”

“No.”

Kate blinked.

“...What?”

“No, I won’t let you see it. I’m fine, Marsh, I already told you. I was stupid - it won’t happen again.”

Kate blinked rapidly as Brooke turned away.

This… wasn’t something she’d been ready for. Not from  _ Brooke Scott, _ of all people.

“Uhm… okay?”

“Yes,  _ okay. _ Now, we’ve got something to look for.”

Brooke stared at her injured hand for another moment - and then let it drop by her side and hang next to her. She started opening cabinets again - one-handed, this time.

Kate stared at her, and wondered who on earth Brooke Scott _was._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not upload for eight hours? Don't be ridiculous (he said, in his best Brooke impression).
> 
> I've been on a bit of a movie spree recently, which is part of the reason I had Brooke's dorm like that. I re-watched Total Recall - pretty good flick. And I finally watched Twelve Angry Men and Blade Runner. I also checked out a few of the movies Kate didn't recognize. Source Code is a really interesting, kinda sci-fi take on... action-packed Groundhog Day? It's really interesting, I'd recommend it - especially if you like sci-fi. Interstellar you've probably heard of. It's... weird. Hiding Out is a movie that seems like it came out in the eighties. It's kinda dumb and mostly ridiculous, but it kinda knows it, which works in its favor. Kinda. I don't know if I'd suggest it - but I liked it. And Short Circuit you've probably heard of, too - it's got a cute robot. And who doesn't like cute robots. Decent flick.
> 
> That's all the ranting I've got for today.
> 
> Wallflower,
> 
> -Howard R.


	7. Glow-In-The-Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Brooke finds what she's looking for.

“Are you… sure your hand is fine?”

Brooke repressed a huff. Maybe  _ annoying _ would be the best word for Kate Marsh.

_ (Of course, she knew it was just that annoying empathy. It always had to bother her.) _

_ “Yes, _ Marsh, I’m sure.” She said carefully, curling her fingers just the littlest bit. 

_ (It wasn’t. She was almost completely sure that letting someone else take a look at it would help. _

_ But she wasn’t going to do that, oh no. Don’t be ridiculous.) _

Now, where were those-

...Oh.

Oh,  _ duh. _ Why hadn’t that occurred to her far earlier?

Brooke whipped around, lunging for her windowsill - upon which sat a single, dark blue box filled with thin, rattling objects.

“Of course it’s here.” She said, straightening. “Of  _ course. _ It was foolish of me not to check earlier.”

She held the box out to Kate Marsh.

...Who stared at it.

Like an idiot.

“...Take it, you absolute fucking ham sandwich.” Brooke said, with a delicate lack of bite in her voice. Kate started and grabbed the box - and then paused.

_ “...Ham sandwich?” _

“What is with your obsession with repeating things I say?” Brooke said - mostly to herself, honestly. She doubted Kate would stop anytime soon.  _ “Yes, _ Marsh. Ham sandwich.”

With that, she left her dorm, and started off towards Kate Marsh’s again. The moment she was out of the doorway, and outside Kate Marsh’s sight, she held up her hand, and cradled it carefully.

Her fingers were turning light purple.

That was probably a bad sign.

“Wait, you can’t just -  _ what?” _ Kate Marsh called, stepping out into the hall - Brooke let the hand fall again, and instead focused on walking briskly to Kate Marsh’s dorm.

“What is it this time?” Brooke said, sending Kate Marsh a single glance when the girl in question came up next to her, a little out of breath.

She clearly didn’t work out. Brooke might have to suggest it to her. Actually, she was due for a little exercise in just a bit here. She’d have to re-schedule.

Maybe.

“Wha - you gave me  _ star stickers.” _ Kate Marsh said, holding up the box with the star stickers in question.

Brooke rolled her eyes.

“Glow-in-the-dark ones, yes - you forgot the most important part.” She said - while Kate Marsh spluttered.

_ “...Why?” _

Brooke blinked.

“Why what?”

Kate Marsh seemed to actually take a second to reboot. Brooke let her.

“Why…  _ okay, it’s fine _ \- why did you need  _ star stickers?” _

“Glow-in-the-da-”

_ “Glow-in-the-dark _ star stickers.” Kate Marsh said, cutting her off - rather rudely, if you asked Brooke.

Brooke let her get away with it, though.

She blinked, a little confused. It seemed obvious to her.

Well, whatever. She could explain - they had about three seconds until they made it to Kate Marsh’s apartment.

“To put them on your ceiling. Obviously.”

Kate Marsh didn’t respond for a moment, as they entered her apartment. 

“...What about that is  _ obvious?” _ She said, finally.

“Well, it seemed fairly apparent to me. The glow-in-the-dark star stickers only really have on purpose.” Brooke said, quite rightly.

Kate Marsh stared at her like she was an alien.

...It was better then spluttering, she supposed.

“Open the box. Split the stars in half - we’ll start putting them up. You get to choose where to put the moon - because I am nothing if not a generous host.” Brooke said, drawing herself up a little and considering the ceiling.

“Wha -  _ I’m _ hosting  _ you!” _

“Semantics.” Brooke said.

Kate Marsh burrowed her head in her hands. Brooke furrowed her brow a little.

Odd.

“...Okay.  _ Okay. _ I can… whatever, sure, why not. Let’s put up some star stickers.” Kate Marsh said, her voice gradually levelling out.

“Glow-in-th-”

_ “Glow-in-the-dark _ star stickers.” Kate Marsh said - though, this time, it sounded remarkably like she was correcting herself.

Brooke, very carefully, didn’t smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter.
> 
> Next time will probably be them putting up (glow-in-the-dark) star stickers. It'll probably come out later today, knowing my upload schedule.
> 
> If you're wondering where the next Dorks and Punks chapter is - it's waiting in the wings while I have fun writing Brooke. Should come out soon enough.
> 
> Wallflower,
> 
> -Howard R.


	8. Red-Laced Waterfalls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kate helps Brooke put up some stickers.

Kate stared at the box of star stickers -  _ glow-in-the-dark _ star stickers, rather - and wondered about the mystery of Brooke Scott.

“Marsh? I need my half, here.” The girl in question - with her overly-long legs and skintight, torn at the knees jeans - said, sending her a glance and a carefully raised eyebrow.

Kate had always resented the fact that she couldn’t raise one eyebrow. It confused her.

She opened the box, and handed a handful that looked like roughly half of them to her. Brooke’s hair, dyed red on one end and with aqua-marine bangs, glinted in the slowly setting sunlight outside.

Dusk was approaching rapidly. Kate might have to invite Brooke to watch the sunset with her if this went on.

_ (...What? Where on earth did that thought come from?) _

Kate shoved quite a few thoughts in the back of her head, and instead focused on Brooke as she reached out to take the handful of stars.

With her left hand.

The one she hadn’t slammed in a cabinet.

“Are you left-handed?” Kate said, as Brooke took the stars and stood on her bed, inspecting the ceiling.

“Hm? Oh. I’m ambidextrous. I spent two months with my left hand tied to a desk whenever I wrote for that skill. I don’t regret it.”

Kate blinked.

“...You’re kinda… something else, aren’t you?”

“Not really.” Brooke said, very dismissively. “We best get to work on this ceiling. Daylight is waning.”

Kate blinked. Again.

She found herself doing that a lot around Brooke.

Brooke, finally, took a star and, very delicately, pressed it to the ceiling.

It stuck.

It was in that moment that Kate really started to be interested in Brooke Scott.

Because, for a moment - something very close to a smile touched Brooke’s face. Almost more of a pleased half-tilt to her lips - satisfied, yet wanting.

And then, it vanished like smoke - and all that was left was a very intensely staring Brooke, with a decidedly neutral expression.

Kate stared.

It struck her, for the first time, that she’d never seen Brooke smile. Not even once.

The beginning of a smile fit her face very well, though.

“Well, they stick. I was afraid the adhesive had been rendered lame by this long on my windowsill - but apparently not.”

She turned around like a whip. Her tied-back hair hit the light in a very odd way, that cast half her face in a reddish-orange glow.

“Well - come on, Marsh. You won’t be doing much work, standing on that floor like a common ignoramus.”

She offered her left hand.

Kate grabbed it without really thinking, and was hoisted onto the bed. Brooke’s sleeve shifted, a little - and Kate wondered for the first time why she was wearing long sleeves indoors.

Actually, she’d never seen Brooke in short sleeves.

“An  _ ignoramus?” _ Kate said, raising her eyebrows. “I’m starting to suspect you actually came from the eighteen-hundreds, Brooke.”

Brooke drew herself up, a little - Kate noticed for the first time that Brooke had an inch or two on her, but was a little slouched pretty much constantly.

“Don’t be a dunce. If I was from the eighteen-hundreds, I’d be shouting it from the rooftops, not sticking glow-in-the-dark star stickers onto your unnecessarily bare ceiling.”

Kate couldn’t help it.

She snorted.

Brooke’s face shifted to open shock, for a moment - probably the most emotion Kate had ever seen from her.

“Fair point.” Kate allowed, taking a sticker of her own and pressing it to the ceiling. “You’re probably just a reincarnated english colonizer.”

Brooke was silent, for a moment.

“Now  _ that, _ Kate, is a valid theory.” She said, sticking another star to the ceiling. “Perhaps I was a baker. Or a blacksmith, even - I can see myself getting into the blacksmithing arts.”

“Maybe you were a pirate.” Kate offered, sticking another star to the ceiling and feeling the tiniest smile tug at her lips. “Working for what you knew was a disproportionate profit.”

“Perhaps I was a simple farmer, forced into the pirating life to help my estranged family.”

“Maybe you were on a years-long quest for vengeance on the person who murdered your cattle.”

“Perhaps I was a sort of nineteenth-century John Wick.”

Kate nodded, and grinned.

“You know, Brooke - I suppose it’s possible that we were friends in a past life. Co-workers.”

Brooke raised an eyebrow, tongue sticking out from between her teeth as she carefully put another star onto the ceiling.

Her tongue was very pink.

“By that logic, it’s possible we were enemies. Rivals on the high seas.”

Kate gave her a smug grin.

“Well,  _ I _ would certainly be a more accomplished pirate then  _ you.” _

“Don’t be a dolt.” Brooke fired back. “You aren’t even ambidextrous.”

“I get better history grades then you.” Kate said - though, really, it was a complete shot in the dark. She had no idea what grades Brooke got.

Brooke sent her a glance.

“Don’t make me bring out my ‘blondes are idiots’ jokes. I have a whole list.”

“At least my hair is only one colour.”

“Don’t even  _ talk _ about my hair.” Brooke said, though there was a distinct lack of bite in her voice.

“I’ve never seen your hair out of a tail, either.” Kate said, pouncing upon the only point that Brooke had even bothered contending.

Brooke sent her another glance.

“Pot? Kettle.”

Kate - out of raw spite - instantly reached behind her head, and pulled her hair out of its bun.

She spread her arms proudly, and smiled widely.

“There. Your turn!”

Brooke stared at her like she was an alien.

“...Why, on the face of these nine realms, would you  _ ever _ tie your hair up?” She said, finally - and she sounded, not only distressed, but genuinely very confused.

“...Because it looks better?”

Brooke kept staring.

Suddenly, something in her face seemed to  _ crack _ \- and she tilted her head up, and said, very confidently,

“‘Why, Brooke, don’t you think this grass is awfully purple today?’”

Kate blinked. Slowly.

“...What?”

“You might as well have just said that.” Brooke said, staring at her - seemingly having forgotten the stars. “That was how crazy you sounded. What am I even supposed to say to something like that?”

“...Well, ‘yes, Kate,’ would be a good start.” She offered, with a tiny smile.

Brooke blinked - one eye after the other. Like a lizard.

“...Yes, Kate.” She said finally.

“Now - your turn!” Kate said again, gesturing to her hair.

Brooke’s face instantly closed up.

“I don’t remember agreeing to that.”

“That’s because you didn’t. Hair down - come on! I let mine down!” Kate said, shaking said hair as if to prove it.

Brooke’s lip tightened - and, for a moment, Kate was afraid she’d crossed some kind of line.

But then, she slowly reached back - with her left hand, Kate couldn’t help but notice - and pulled her hair out of its tie.

She shook it loose, and Kate blanched.

Brooke adjusted her glasses, and raised an eyebrow expectantly.

“Well? I did it. Stop annoying me now, please?”

Kate had to admit, on the surface, it was an… odd look. One that shouldn’t have worked so well.

Her bangs hung low enough to cover one of her eyebrows, with the hint that they were brushed to one side in the way they fell down. They were died aqua-marine - an odd contrast with the strands of red and white that laced the curtains of hair that cascaded past her shoulders, and ended with a soft curl that made them look like waterfalls - ending with a splashing torrent of mist and flinging droplets of freshwater.

It shouldn’t have looked so good.

“...Uh. Yeah, I’ll… that’s fine.” Kate managed, turning away to put up another sticker - mainly because if she didn’t, she’d keep staring, and that would just be weird.

“Wonderful.” Brooke muttered under her breath, sticking another star to the ceiling.

Kate wholeheartedly agreed - not that she’d ever say so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this platonic?
> 
> I mean, probably. Maybe. I dunno. I certainly don't have any plans with what I'm going to do with this bond later on.
> 
> Definitely not.
> 
> Wallflower,
> 
> -Howard R.


	9. Stop Staring At Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Brooke knows this was a dumb idea.

Kate looked very odd with her hair down.

Of course, she looked far better then she did when it was up. Bangs highlighted her face quite well. Brooke didn’t look at her all that often - but her hair touched the small of her back like a lover, and it was a style that Brooke thought suited her.

Of course, there were more important issues at hand. Like the distressing lack of star stickers on Kate’s ceiling.

Oh, but small talk must be had, as well. Because Kate clearly couldn’t handle the pressure of silence.

“You have any pets?” Kate said, quite suddenly. She sent Brooke a glance - and Brooke couldn’t miss how her eyes lingered on the hair that was touching her shoulders.

She thought that Kate must want her hair back in a tie. It made since - she’d never looked as good with her hair down, though she didn’t keep it up for that reason. She kept it tied so she could read without hair in her face, and so she could conduct some chemistry experiments on the side.

She adjusted her sleeve a little, mostly on instinct. It had started to slip.

“No. I had a crow once, but he left the nest fairly quickly.”

Kate blinked.

“A…  _ crow?” _

“Nevermore.” Brooke supplied, quite helpfully in her opinion - and refrained from repeating that Kate had a strange obsession with reiterating things Brooke had  _ just said. _

“What… was that his name?”

“Her name. And yes.”

“That’s a good name.”

Brooke blinked.

When she glanced over, Kate was looking at her, with a tiny smile on her face. One of her arms was pressing a sticker to the ceiling - so her loose t-shirt rode up a little, and exposed one of her hips.

This interaction was rapidly reminding her why she didn’t have friends.

“Thank you, I suppose. But the point is moot by now - Nevermore is long dead, and longer gone.”

That made the smile slip off Kate’s face like sap.

Unfortunate. Smiles fit her face better then they did Brooke’s.

“I’m sorry.”

Brooke sent her another glance. This time, Kate wasn’t looking at her.

“For what?”

“Your crow.”

Brooke blinked.

“It happens. And besides - it’s not your fault. No need to apologize something you didn’t, and couldn’t’ve, had a say in.”

“Is ‘couldn’t’ve’ even a word?” Kate said. Her responses were getting quicker.

That was probably bad. Soon enough, Brooke would be the one lagging behind - and the acquaintanceship would devolve.

As always.

“Every word is made up. What defines a word is that other people understand it and translate it into understanding. If you knew what I meant, then it was a word.”

Brooke pressed another sticker to the ceiling.

The setting sunlight touched the bedframe, shy and fleeting.

Brooke wondered what it would be like, to be a sunbeam. Always moving, never holding onto anything. Unable to form bonds. Interacting with something being your only means of existence.

Truly awful.

“Thank you, sunbeams.” She said, pressing another sticker to the ceiling.

“...What?”

Oh, right. Kate.

“I thanked the sunbeams. It occurred to me that it must be awful, being a sunbeam - only existing to interact with other objects and benefit humanity. So I decided to thank them. I doubt anyone else would’ve done it.”

There was a pause.

“That’s… really sweet, Brooke.”

She glanced at Kate - who was staring at her. Brooke got the feeling that the stare was almost… expectant. Or maybe just waiting.

This was why she didn’t have friends. They always seemed to want something from her. Something she couldn’t give - or even understand.

Kate was staring at her like she wanted something - and like Brooke was supposed to know what it was.

She felt so  _ stupid _ in moments like these.

“We don’t have all day to put these up, Kate.” She said, keeping her voice utterly flat.

Kate’s face fell, and Brooke knew that she had failed to deliver whatever Kate had wanted.

Like always.

_ I shouldn’t’ve tried to make a friend again. Didn’t I learn this lesson already? Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, and expecting different results. _

“Right. Sorry.” Kate said, pressing another glow-in-the-dark sticker to the ceiling.

_ No - I’m sorry. I’m sorry I don’t have whatever it is you want. _

“Don’t be sorry. It’s understandable - attention drifts. Happens to the best of us.” Brooke said.

“...Does that mean I’m one of ‘the best of us’?”

Kate gave her another one of those  _ can’t you tell what I want to hear? _ looks. 

_ No, I fucking can’t, stop expecting me to. _

“It means that you have a short attention span, Kate. I thought that was pretty self-explanatory.” Brooke said, as honestly as she could.

“Oh. Right.”

“Left.” Brooke said, on instinct.

“...What?”

“Nothing. Glow-in-the-dark star stickers to put up, Kate.”

“Okay, okay.”

There was a lull. Brooke felt distinctly like she had done something wrong - and this had been dumb of her. She should’ve left when she had the chance.

“...What  _ do _ you think of me?” Kate said, suddenly but softly.

Brooke blinked.

Why was everyone else so  _ weird. _

They cared about the oddest things, asked the weirdest questions, and phrased things in the dumbest ways - and then turned around and seemed to expect her to deliver all their hopes and dreams. And then, when she couldn’t, they said she was  _ different, weird, wrong. _

She just wanted to learn Italian, and have people who didn’t stare at her like they wanted something she didn’t have.

“I think that you have an oddly bare room that needs signs of life, that you look good with your hair down, that you aren’t even a little bit normal or easy to understand and that you need to stop looking at me like that.” Brooke said - because she had no idea how to answer that, except with the truth.

Kate didn’t seem to know how to respond to that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing to rant about this time. Hope you enjoyed.
> 
> Wallflower,
> 
> -Howard R.


	10. I'm Not Sure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kate might just have a crush.

Alright, so Kate might’ve had a crush.

Yes, she admitted it - she was smart enough to know when she had a crush. And it was dumb.  _ Really _ dumb. She could hardly even have a normal conversation with Brooke - Brooke wasn’t even  _ normal. _ Brooke was a  _ weirdo. _ Brooke waved away her questions with nonsensical answers, and used the weirdest terms and phrases, and kept using her left hand for everything, and had never been out of a hoodie, and had hair that cascaded like waterfalls and barely touched her shoulders like a lover-

Oh God.

She had a  _ really bad _ crush.

And Brooke was  _ oblivious, _ because she was a weirdo. And Kate honestly wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing.

Maybe if she’d known a girl with a crush on her was standing on her left side, Brooke wouldn’t keep biting her top lip like that. Who bit their  _ top lip? _

“Marsh? Daylight’s a passing storm, y’know.” Brooke said suddenly, startling her from her thoughts. She took a star sticker - but blinked.

“Yeah, but… wouldn’t it just be easier to see in the dark? These are glow-in-the-dark, after all.” Kate said, pressing one to the ceiling and glancing at Brooke.

And trying not to stare at her hair.

Brooke seemed to consider this carefully, as she pressed another star to the ceiling.

“Are you suggesting I stay the night? I assumed you wanted me to leave.” Brooke glanced at her - and Kate thought it was probably just her imagination telling her that it seemed more vulnerable then usual.

“Uh. I mean - you’ve already stayed this long, right?”

“The sunk cost fallacy at its finest.” Brooke said, pressing another star to the ceiling - she was reaching pretty far out now, and one of her legs - in their stupid skintight jeans, why was she wearing those - curled up to accommodate and keep her balance.

She didn’t know what the sunk cost fallacy was - but it seemed fairly self-explanatory.

“I mean, yeah, but the most you’ll lose is a few hours, right? I’ve lost more time then that to bunny videos on YouTube.” Kate said, as wisely as she could manage.

Brooke blinked, and sent her a glance.

“Bunny videos?”

Kate felt just a little bit of warmth crawl in her cheeks, and scratched one of her ears.

“I - uh - used to own a bunny.”

“Oh. Interesting.” Brooke said, pressing another sticker to the ceiling. “What was their name?”

“Alice.”

Brooke blinked.

“That’s… a good name.”

Brooke sounded absolutely shocked, and Kate wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or insulted.

Eventually, she just smiled.

“Thanks. I thought so too.”

Brooke seemed to struggle with what to say, for a moment. Her hand, holding a few more stars, faltered.

“What... happened to her?”

“Died. When I was a kid.”

“Oh.”

Brooke, for some reason, seemed… awkward. Her movements were a little more stiff then usual, and her focus seemed to be wavering.

“I’m… sorry. About your rabbit.”

“I prefer to think of her as a bunny.” Kate offered. “But… thank you.”

There was a lull.

“...Just tell me what to say.” Brooke said, suddenly.

Kate glanced at her.

“What?”

“You want me to say something, and I don’t know what it is. Just… tell me. ...Please.”

Kate stared at her.

“Uh… I just kinda wanted to move on… just say something that’ll provoke a conversation?” Kate offered, a little confused.

“All drugs should be legal.” Brooke said instantly.

A pause.

“...What?”

“You said say something to provoke a conversation. Every time I say that, somebody wants to tell me about how I’m wrong, so. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re wrong.” Kate said. “Very,  _ very _ wrong.”

“Why?”

Brooke glanced at her - and she couldn’t really tell what was behind her eyes. What she could possibly be thinking.

She was no closer to solving the mystery of Brooke Scott.

She was just a lot more invested in it.

“Well,  _ obviously _ drugs should be illegal. Their dangerous, and addictive.”

“So is coffee. So is  _ alcohol. _ Why restrict only slightly more dangerous forms - doesn’t the freedom of choice extend to choosing dangerous addictions?”

“Not when they could hurt others!”

“Drunk people get in bar fights.” Brooke fired back, pressing another sticker to the ceiling. “Do you think alcohol should be illegal too?”

“Alcohol isn’t anywhere near as extreme as - I dunno -  _ meth?” _

“Where’s the line, then? At what point do you have to go - ‘okay, nope, too dangerous now, can’t be legal’?”

“You - there’s no way you can  _ actually _ think this.” Brooke was supposed to be smart.

“Why not? It makes sense to me.”

Kate stared at Brooke - who sedately pressed another star sticker to the ceiling.

“...You’re weird, Brooke.”

“You’re the weird one, Kate. Deciding to keep a rabbit as a pet.”

“Says the girl who had a pet crow.” Kate fired back, with a grin.

“Crows are wonderful. And stylish.”

“Stylish? What  _ style _ were you wearing, then - that was enhanced by a  _ crow?” _

“A very effective one.” Brooke deadpanned, pressing a sticker to the ceiling. Kate put her hands on her hips, and glared at her with a wide, disbelieving grin.

_ “Rrrreally? _ Cause, frankly - it sounds like you were just a goth.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Brooke said. “I was an  _ emo. _ Big difference, Kate.”

Kate couldn’t help but laugh.

When she stopped, Brooke was staring at her.

“...What?” She said, almost glancing behind her.

Brooke went back to putting stars on the ceiling.

“Nothing. Just… you’re very… loud.”

Kate blinked.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

Brooke paused.

“...I’m not sure.”

“Well, I’m taking it as a compliment.” Kate decided, taking another star and putting it on the ceiling. “So - thank you, Brooke.”

“My pleasure, Kate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MWA HA HA
> 
> That's my evil laugh. Because I killed Kate's bunny. I'm an official supervillain now.
> 
> MWAHAHAHAHAH
> 
> Wallflower,
> 
> -Howard R.


	11. Have Fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Victoria doesn't knock.

“Maxine, I was wondering-”

Her sentence died in the air when she realized nobody was listening.

Because Maxine’s dorm was empty.

She glanced around - as if Maxine would materialize, because Victoria expected it. She didn’t, of course - nor did she end up just being in a corner, huddled up with a laptop. That wasn’t uncommon either.

No, she just… wasn’t here.

Victoria blinked. Slowly.

Well, she supposed, if Maxine wasn’t here - that was… her own business. No need for Victoria to get involved.

No need at all.

...But still, this was concerning. Maxine hadn’t said anything about meeting up with Kate for tea, or any plans she had. Sure, she could make plans without Victoria, but…

But she  _ didn’t. _

That was worrying.

...Alright. It was fine. She’d visit Kate - she and Max were probably having tea. She could ask Max about the party then.

She was just at Kate’s.

Nothing to worry about.

* * *

When she opened the door to Kate’s dorm, she certainly wasn’t ready for the image that stood before her.

Kate had her hair down for the first time Victoria had ever seen - and she was standing on top of her bed with a girl that looked vaguely familiar, sticking what looked like  _ plastic stars _ onto the ceiling and arguing.

“Kate - it is not only apparent, but  _ self-evident, _ that you should start and end with a downward stroke.”

“Doesn’t seem  _ apparent _ to me, Brooke - why wouldn’t you draw it down, then up, like a check mark?”

“Because that’s idiotic, you absolute pillock - why would you draw an x like a  _ check mark. _ They are  _ literal opposites.” _

“Why wouldn’t you draw them the opposite way, then?”

“Because you slash  _ down. _ It’s common sense.”

“It’s common  _ dumb.” _

_ “You’re _ dumb.”

“You’re dumb!”

“You’re both complete idiots.” VIctoria said - effectively ending the debate. Kate glanced over, and instantly went beet-red - while the girl Kate had called ‘Brooke’ turned to her, and raised an eyebrow.

“You didn’t knock.”

Victoria ignored her.

“Where’s Maxine?”

“Who?” Brooke said - while Kate’s face fell, a little.

“I… don’t know. We… had a fight.”

Victoria glared at her.

“Alright, good to know, but I wasn’t interested in a record of events, thanks.”

Kate’s face hardened again.

She’d always been annoying.

“...Who are you?”

Victoria glanced at the girl - Brooke - who was now looking at her in a very piercing manner.

“...So neither of you know where Maxine is?”

Kate shook her head. Brooke didn’t say anything.

_ “Wonderful. _ Why do I even try?” She muttered, turning to leave.

“Bitch.”

She stopped cold.

_ “...What _ did you just say?”

She turned around.

The girl - Brooke, Victoria had reason to remember her name now - was looking right through her.

“I said ‘bitch’. See, I like to find words for people - it helps me. And it’s entertaining. I’ve never seen you before - I’ve decided that you’re  _ bitch. _ I’m quite proud of it.”

Kate had dawning horror on her face. Brooke was looking right through her - one of her hands was still full of plastic stars.

Her gaze was very cold.

Victoria pushed down the raising lioness in her chest, and whipped around.

“I don’t have time for you right now. I have to find my friend.”

“Ah - you don’t have  _ time _ for me. Of course.” Brooke hummed - and Victoria could just hear the sarcasm  _ dripping _ from her voice.

She whipped around - just in time to see Brooke stepping off the bed, hands in her pockets.

“You don’t want this fight, gutter girl.” She hissed.

Brooke looked right through her.

“I don’t?”

And she raised a single, cold eyebrow, eyes glinting like flint.

Victoria snapped.

She saw red.

And then Brooke was on the floor, a bright red hand mark across her face and a cut from one of her rings scraped across her cheekbone.

A drop of blood trickled from the cut.

But Brooke just kept staring at her.

Victoria sneered.

“Don’t reach above your station, freak.”

She crouched, and gave Brooke a wide, predatory grin.

“You think I don’t know about you? The little  _ freak _ girl? I eat people like you for breakfast, hun.”

She leaned in.

“You’re  _ nothing. _ Nothing but a  _ freaky _ little girl with cuts on her arms - and hey, now you’ve got a matching one on your face! Well, maybe not matching - after all-”

She stood up - and the smile slipped from her face like a mask coming off. She glared down at the girl -  _ Brooke _ \- and let vitriol seep into her tone like an old friend.

“The one on your cheek isn’t from  _ you, _ is it?”

Finally -  _ finally _ \- something flashed across the girl’s eyes. Flitted across her pupils like a shadow - and then vanished like smoke.

She turned to Kate - whose face was twisted in horror and rage.

And helplessness.

“Have fun. I’m finding Maxine.”

She slammed the door behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I know it looks like this should be in the main fic, but there is a reason for it being here.
> 
> We get fluffy times with Max over there, and bad times with Victoria over here. I'm sure that one won't seep over into the other.
> 
> Wallflower,
> 
> -Howard R.


	12. Smile For The (Lack Of) Court!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kate lacks vocabulary.

The moment the latch bolt  _ clicked _ into place, Kate was on the ground, peering at Brooke’s face with dawning horror.

The cut was worse then it had looked from afar. Up close, it was far nastier - whatever ensignia had been on  _ Chase’s _ ring cut deep. It had carved an odd shape into Brooke’s flesh - like a smeared  _ r. _

Kate’s hand reached for Brooke’s face - and faltered.

“I - I should’ve stopped her.” She muttered, staring at the thinly leaking cut with a slushy combination of nausea, anger and helplessness brewing in her stomach. “I should’ve done something.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Brooke said, sitting up a little and touching her face - with her left hand. “Who was she?”

“Victoria Chase.”

Bitterness and vitriol brewed in Kate’s tone, and Brooke sent her a glance that was something close to startled.

“Noted. Well, it’s a good thing you didn’t intervene. That was assault and battery, with a witness - against a minor, no less. If she was injured, she might have a case for self-defence - but, as is, she’s done for.”

As Brooke spoke, the slew of emotion in her stomach drained - until all that was left was dread.

“The charges won’t stick, Brooke.”

“Don’t be vacuous.” Brooke said, more then a little dismissively. “I have an open wound. I’m a minor. She’s of age, and is uninjured. And-”

Brooke turned to her, and her heart stopped.

“-I have a very reliable witness.”

At any other time, being called  _ reliable _ would’ve been nice. But, right now, it just made this worse.

“She’s  _ Victoria Chase, _ Brooke. And… I don’t know what she was talking about, but it sounds like people have a reason to be biased against you…”

“Bias can’t account for plain fact - and the facts  _ are _ plain. Proof is standing right in front of me, holding her hand right in front of my face like a half-witted dullard.”

Kate flushed, and put her hand down. Brooke sat all the way up, and cradled her head - with her left hand, Kate couldn’t help but notice.

“Urgh - she might be a pathetic bitch, but she can deliver one hell of a slap.” Brooke muttered - and Kate couldn’t help but giggle, albeit a little hysterically.

“...I’m really sorry.” Kate muttered.

Brooke furrowed her brow, glancing up from beneath her bangs and between her fingers. It framed the one eye that was staring at her very oddly - highlighted by the thin, pale lines of her fingers, and shrouded by a few stray hairs.

“For what?”

“About you getting hit. About not stepping in.”

“Next you’re going to apologize for global warming.” Brooke said, with a roll of her eyes. “You couldn’t’ve done anything, Kate.”

“...I  _ did _ toast that Pop Tart once…” Kate muttered, trying to keep a straight face. “Maybe global warming  _ is _ my fault…”

And Brooke  _ smiled. _

It was the most beautiful thing Kate had ever seen.

“You’re so idiotic, you block-headed birdbrain.”

“You’re dumb.” Kate muttered back, because vocabulary had never been her stong suit.

_ “You’re _ dumb.”

Kate giggled, and smiled a very stupid smile - because that tiny little pleased half-tilt was still on Brooke’s lips, and Kate would’ve given anything to keep it there.

“...We can think about this later.” Kate finally muttered - because she would’ve given anything, so she’d have to give  _ something. _ “Let’s just… put up the rest of those stars?”

“I think we’re running low.” And the smile was slipping off Brooke’s face, but her eyes still sparkled - and, for now, that would have to be enough.

“Well - you can help me decide where to put the moon, then.”

“...Sure.” Brooke said, adjusting a little and flicking her bangs out of her face. “Help me up, lummox.”

“Okay, you made that one up.” Kate said, standing and offering her hand.

“Lummox, noun, 1A: A clumsy, stupid person. Of nineteenth century origin - exact etymology unknown.” Brooke recited, grabbing Kate’s hand and hoisting herself to her feet. “Technically, though, all words are made up.”

“You’re such a dummy.” Kate muttered with a smile.

“And  _ you, _ are a mooncalf.”

“Okay,  _ that _ one you made up.”

Brooke just sent her a  _ look. _

“Seriously?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no, I'm starting to actually run out of vocabulary. I might have to resort to a thesaurus soon enough.
> 
> I actually read up on insults a while ago - mooncalf was one of my personal favorites.
> 
> Have good day.
> 
> Wallflower,
> 
> -Howard R.


	13. You Wish, Porn Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dawn and Viccy are reprobates.

Viccy and Dawn were the world’s greatest trouble-making team.

They made for perfect partners. Viccy was the ice to Dawn’s fire. The calm to her storm. The wits to her courage. As they entered the ninth grade, they were the two happiest teens one could hope to meet. Fourteen years old, full of revelry, childishly rebellious and with wide, cat-that-got-the-canary grins.

That was when things started to go downhill.

But ninth grade -  _ that _ had been their golden year. Their time to shine. Their absolute peak - where they made the city into their personal playground, and held the sky in their joined hands.

People often wondered how exactly the two of them had ever ended up friends. They obviously cared about each other - but they seemed so different. Victoria Chase, with her polished smiles and place at the top of the popularity charts - and Rachel Amber, with her crooked teeth, a lighter in her pocket and the future on a lasso. When they were seen together at lunch, the one who joined the other’s table always seemed out of place. Rachel, sitting with the popular kids and managing to get all her food into one big tower, or Victoria, silent and watching among the schools biggest troublemakers.

And in class, too, they acted so different - with Rachel constantly messing with Victoria, trying to get her attention away from the teacher or making her crack a smile.

But when they were alone - that’s when they seemed so very similar.

Because Viccy and Dawn were the world’s greatest trouble-making duo, and they planned to let the world know it.

“It won’t work, Dawn.”

“Come on, Viccy - you’re the mastermind! Make it work!”

“It  _ won’t work, _ Dawn. It’s that simple. I like to think I’m smart, but I can’t make something un-impossible.”

“Sure you can! Just take it in your hands, and-”

Dawn made a complicated gesture that made Viccy snicker.

“Stop being dumb and pay attention. If you want to ruin this prom, you’ve gotta put some effort in.”

“When do I start lighting things on fire?”

“We’ve been over this, Dawn. Once the streamers drop.”

“Can we open with that?”

“No.”

Dawn groaned, and Viccy smiled just the tiniest bit - despite her best efforts to stay stoic.

_ “No, _ Dawn. If we open with that - fire alarms get pulled, we get about ten seconds of chaos, and then everything is sorted out. We need to do better then that! This is our big debut - we’ve been waiting for too long to let your love of fire get in the way.”

“Yeah, I know, I know.” Dawn muttered, glaring down at the sheet in front of them. “Wait for the streamers to drop. But my tar proposal still stands.”

“How do you suggest we get  _ tar?” _

“Again, Viccy - I’m not the mastermind! Use that big nerd brain of yours to figure it out.”

Dawn poked her forehead, and Viccy wrinkled her nose.

“I am  _ not _ a nerd. If anyone’s a nerd, Dawn - you are.”

Dawn gasped, reeling with a hand on her heart.

“Oh - my feelings! I’ve been hit!”

She groaned dramatically, spiraling away from the bed and collapsing on the floor. Viccy couldn’t help but laugh at her stupidity.

“Come on - get up, idiot.” She said, walking over and grabbing her hand. Dawn cracked an eye open, and grinned.

“Alright, alright - I’m gettin’-”

Viccy hoisted her up - and didn’t notice that she was a little closer then she’d meant to be until it was too late.

Because suddenly Dawn was  _ right there _ \- with her overly-long blonde hair and her crooked teeth and her blemished skin, because the world  _ hated _ Viccy.

There was a moment - where everything seemed to stop, and Dawn seemed to realize what was happening.

“...So?”

“So?” Viccy muttered - and Dawn’s breath was hot and humid against her skin.

“So - you gonna kiss me, or what?”

And it was just such a  _ Dawn _ sentence that Viccy bust out laughing.

“You wish, porn star.” She said confidently, turning around with a little flourish and walking back to the bed.

“Models and porn stars are not the same thing!” Dawn said instantly, for probably the third time that week.

“Mm-hm. Whatever you say, exhibitionist.”

“I guess that’d make you a perv, then? Since you’re my opposite, and all.”

“At least I have  _ class.” _ Viccy said simply, whipping back towards Dawn when she was a safe distance away.

“Don’t try that on me, Viccy - you think I don’t remember the noodle incident?”

_ “We are not to speak of that in this sacred home.” _ Viccy hissed in a moment - and there was sincerity there, mixed in with the sarcasm.

“You  _ wish _ this place was sacred. Where are the king and queen, anyway?” Dawn said, with just a little bitterness. Viccy’s expression went a little cold.

“Mom and Dad are out. …As usual.”

Dawn raised an eyebrow.

“Is that…  _ bitterness? _ Does little miss perfect have a spine after all?”

“Little miss perfect has never existed.” Viccy said confidently, pointing at the sheet of paper between them again. “She’s just a very good mask. I, on the other hand, am  _ very _ real.”

“Don’t I know it.” Dawn said with a grin.

“Now - we need to work out when we’re going to drop the stuffed animals…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wallflower,
> 
> -Howard R.


	14. Just Plain Macabre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kate sees the fruits of their effort, and Brooke isn't incredibly open.

“Look-”

Brooke, leaned over a sheet of paper very intently, drew a grey granite _x_ with two harsh, downward strokes.

Of her left hand, Kate couldn’t help but notice.

“There. Two slashes - and slashes go _down._ Done.”

“Yeah - but consider-”

And Kate gingerly took the pencil from Brooke’s hand - trying not to brush her fingers - before making an x of her own.

“One down, one up. It’s quicker!”

“It’s _wrong.”_

“You’re wrong.”

“You’re the thickest divvy I’ve ever had the misfortune of encountering.”

“You’re dumb.”

_“You’re_ dumb.” Brooke said - and Kate thought that, just maybe, the sparkle in her eyes was the beginnings of a smile.

There was a moment of silence - where Kate just smiled, and Brooke looked at her with that expression that seemed to suggest a smile where there wasn’t one.

“...Do you want me to say something?” Brooke said, suddenly - and the sparkle in her eyes died, just like that.

“What?”

“You’re looking at me like you want me to say something.”

“...I am?” Kate said.

“I thought so.”

“Well, I… don’t think I want you to say anything?”

“Well, that’s good. It makes me feel quite dumb, not knowing what to say.”

Brooke shifted a little, and hopped up onto the desk. It was one of very few pieces of furniture in Kate’s dorm - and the laptop had been taken off it, so they could do their x experiment.

There was another moment of quiet.

Brooke began rolling her nails along the surface of her desk.

Kate gave in to the curiosity gnawing at her stomach.

“Um… I don’t wanna be rude, but… what was Victoria talking about? Earlier?”

Brooke just shrugged.

“She was just being an ableist bitch. It’s nothing to worry about.”

“No, not about… you being a freak, about… uh… scars on your arms?”

Brooke went very, very still.

It was even hard to tell, for a moment. She wasn’t like Max - who would go tense whenever she was confronted with something. Brooke just went completely, totally still for a moment. It was nearly impossible to tell - but Kate saw it.

Kate saw it in the way her fingers stopped rolling against the desk.

And then, she started rolling her nails again.

And started breathing again.

“I’m not sure. I think she was making some assumptions, off of gossip.”

Brooke sounded very dismissive.

“Uh. Right.”

Kate filed the accusation in the back of her head, though.

There was another moment of quiet.

“I should get back to my dorm.” Brooke said, hopping off the desk again. “It’s getting dark.”

“...Oh.”

Kate felt a thorn nestle its way into her stomach.

“Okay.” She said - and her voice wavered.

She cleared her throat.

Brooke sent her an odd glance.

“Before I go, though - we best see what those stars look like.”

Kate blinked.

And Brooke flicked out the lights.

For a moment, Kate nearly made what surely would’ve ended up being an embarrassing noise. She’d never been quite comfortable with the dark - she wasn’t really _scared_ of it anymore, but being plunged suddenly into near-blackness was… startling.

But then she looked up.

“...Oh.”

She had stars on her ceiling.

She’d known, logically, that the stars would glow in the dark, and take away the startling harshness of the black. But it hadn’t really sunk in.

Until now.

“That looks… really nice.” She murmured - and her voice was a little too… _full._

“Not really.” Brooke said - and her voice wasn’t any different. “I put too many over there. And there’s a weird cluster over here. And I will _never_ unsee that dick shape. We might have to take one of those down.”

Kate giggled.

“But I think it helps. This place is far too macabre.” Brooke said thoughtfully - Kate could _hear_ the way she rubbed her chin from just her voice. “Kate, I do believe that this is a good first step.”

_“...First_ step?” She said, turning to where Brooke’s voice was coming from. She could only see the sparkle of her perfectly black, flinty pupils.

“Hm? Oh, yes. I’ve decided that this awful dorm is my newest project. Learning Italian will have to be put on hold for another little while.”

Kate stared at her.

“That’s… that’s really nice of you, Brooke.”

“Not really. Actually, it’s quite selfish - wanting to transform someone else’s space because you personally don’t like it. And greed is supposed to be a deadly sin.”

She turned around, and started towards the door again.

“But sinfulness has never been a problem for me before. Take care, Kate - until tomorrow.”

And she was gone.

* * *

Back at her apartment, Brooke took out a sheet of paper - and jotted down what she remembered of Kate’s dorm room.

She’d ace this project.

She would get no sleep that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do you draw an X? I draw one like Brooke.
> 
> Oh, and I wanted to ask what you all wanted to see out of this fic. There are still quite a few side characters I haven't even touched - I'd like to see your suggestions. Even if you've got a suggestion for the main story, I'd love to hear it. I'm publishing this as I write it - this isn't something I've planned out already (at least, not entirely - I've got a basic outline, but details can change). I want critique. I want suggestions. And I know you guys are clever - I mean, I got the name for this fic from ya'll.
> 
> Wallflower,
> 
> -Howard R.


	15. Some Explaining To Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Victoria begins to unravel.

The first thing Victoria tried was calling Max’s phone.

There was no answer.

That was when the panic began to set in.

_“You’ve reached the phone of Max Caulfield - and I’m sorry that I’m not available right now. Please, leave a message.”_

She hung up instead.

Her hand buried itself into her hair, and crawled against her scalp like a bug. She began to pace.

If someone had been there to slap some sense into her, she would’ve realized that this was unbecoming behavior. That pacing her room frantically like this wasn’t something that Victoria would do - certainly not over a bug like _Maxine._ That what was brewing in her chest should’ve been vague annoyance, mabe irritation - not rage and panic.

She slammed a fist against the wall - and took great satisfaction in the dull thud of heat that spread across her hand, thorny and painful.

Fucking _Maxine._

Slipping through her fingers, staring at her with vulnerable eyes - trusting, doe-like, impossible Maxine.

_Her_ Maxine.

“Who didn’t answer my call.” She muttered - her hand buried itself deeper into her hair. Her skin felt like it was stuck to her flesh, a layer of wet kelp. “Who’s fucking _ignoring me.”_

No.

No, of course not. Not _her_ Maxine. Maxine would never ignore her. Maxine would never slip through her fingers like this.

Someone else - it had to be someone else. Or something else. It was the only way.

Her phone. It wasn’t on her.

_Her room._

* * *

Victoria ripped the plug from the outlet with a snarl, staring at the phone that Maxine had left behind when she went… _somewhere._

She’d left it charging.

She took the phone and tapped in the code. No guilty voice whispered in the back of her head this time.

_Call history:_

_Chloe Price ;)_ **_I_ ** _4:32 PM_

Chloe Price.

The name rung a very vague, very distant bell in the back of her mind.

...Chloe Price.

_I’m Rachel Amber’s plus one._

Right. She’d borrowed a smoke from her.

...Why the fuck was _Rachel’s plus one_ calling _her_ Maxine?

She considered.

She could call up Rachel, and ask what the fuck was going on - but there was a chance Dawn had no idea what was happening. Even if she did know, there was a chance she didn’t know where _Price_ was _right now_ \- and that was what was important.

How long had Price been around? How long had she gone, with her claws in _her_ Maxine? How long had she been working at pulling her away - away from her best friend? How long had she been working to get her to go away, run off - _without Maxine even telling Victoria._

How long had this been happening?

How had she _missed_ it?

_(Now is not the time to get angry, Victoria. You’ve got a friend to take back.)_

Yes. Right. Not the time to be mad.

Plan. She needed a plan. And calling Dawn wouldn’t work.

...She looked back down at Maxine’s phone.

Price was on speed dial.

She pressed _call._

_Brrrring._

_Brrrring._

_Brrrring._

_Brrrring._

_Brr-_

**“...Hello? Who is this?”**

In a moment, she composed herself.

“Yeah, hi - are you Chloe Price, by any chance?”

**“Yeah, that’s me. Why do you have Max’s phone?”**

The truth wasn’t an option. Price was already working to tear Maxine away from her - she wouldn’t let Victoria talk to her, that was for sure.

“Hi!” She said, in her best Dana impression. “My name is Taylor Belle - Max might’ve mentioned me? Yeah, I found her phone just… laying in the hallway? I think she dropped it! Is she with you, maybe - I noticed she called you pretty recently?”

Her knuckles turned white as her nails dug into her palms. She kept her tone polite.

**“Oh! You’re Max’s friend, then? Yeah, I’ll hand the phone over to her - we’ll have to hang out sometime, though. Talk shop.”**

“Sure! Can I talk to Max now, please?”

She felt a drop of blood drip down to her knuckles, and onto the floor. She ignored it.

**“Yeah - alright. One mo’.**

_...Hello? Who is this?”_

“What the _fuck_ are you doing, Maxine?” She hissed - she heard Maxine make a tiny noise into the receiver.

_“Wha - Vict-”_

_“Where are you?”_ She hissed, before Maxine could really even start processing.

_“T-the junkyard? But I’m not - what’s wr-”_

_Click._

She shoved Maxine's phone into her pocket, and walked to the door - just barely managing to keep her speed down to a brisk walk.

_You’ll regret this, Chloe Price._

_And you’ll have some explaining to do, Maxine._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wallflower,
> 
> -Howard R.


	16. Easy Enough, Surely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kate decides she wants to apologise for her behavior.

She considered the phone.

Her name was Kate Marsh, and she’d been a lesbian all her life.

This was something she’d never really told her parents. She knew that Dad suspected, but… he’d never said a word. He’d always insist that Mom would still love her if she was gay - that, if she  _ was _ gay, then she should tell her. But…

Her mother was a ruthless woman. She had cold, polished steel eyes and a fiery temper. She had a loyalty that was well-known, and made her one of the most devoted christains of her church - but it also made her a very stubborn, strong-willed woman. Kate respected her for that - and she hated it.

She still remembered the moment that she’d realized, Mom had never really been her mother. She’d been the mother of some… made up image of her, that had never been real. Of some mask that Mom wanted her to wear. She’d never really wanted a daughter - she wanted a… successor, of sorts. An  _ heir. _

And Kate didn’t fit the position.

She’d gotten more from her mom then she’d like to admit. It was why Max’s words had sunk so deep. They had touched something very vulnerable in her, and it hurt like hell - all the more so because she knew Max was the sweetest person on earth.

She tried to be like Dad - and she liked to think she did pretty well. But her fierce loyalty, her protectiveness, her stubbornness - she’d known these things were all Mom.

Mom would’ve hated Brooke.

Kate had been a lesbian her whole life, and never told a soul. It weighed upon her - not really a  _ secret, _ but… a heavy piece of information. Something that held down her soul, and tied her to the earth under her feet.

She wasn’t ashamed of it.

She was  _ afraid _ of it.

_ (Sometimes, though, she’d regret the fact that she’d never told Mom. Would she really have rejected her? Maybe… maybe it would’ve established trust. Maybe Mom really did love her. She was protective, at least.) _

Brooke had a frayed, scarred top lip, and Kate wanted to see more of her.

  
The sun touched the horizon outside.

It turned out she had Brooke’s number in her phone. From one of the times they’d partnered - though she’d never ended up contacting Brooke. Brooke had just kinda… done the project for both of them.

She dialed.

It didn’t even have a chance to ring.

**_“This is Brooke Scott. If you’re selling something, get lost. Unless it’s sex toys.”_ **

She blinked. Twice.

“...Uh. Hi, Brooke.”

**_“Ah. Hello, Kate. What’s going on? ...Unless you’ve become a telemarketer. I sincerely hope not - you aren’t fit for that job. Might I suggest a career in movie making? You seem the type to be a good romantic comedy writer.”_ **

“What? No, I wasn’t… you think I’d be a good writer?”

**_“Yes, I do. Again, though - preferably romantic comedies. You seem more a character writer then a plot writer.”_ **

“Well… uh… thanks? But I was… calling about something else.”

**_“Oh. Alright. ARE you selling sex toys?”_ **

“Wh- No! I don’t even own any s-sex toys!”

**_“That’s quite the misfortune. I probably would’ve been easy to negotiate with. What are you selling, then? Girl scout cookies? Chocolate bars? The cult of Cthulhu?”_ **

“I’m not selling  _ anything, _ Brooke.” She said - and she couldn’t believe she actually had to say that.

This was the weirdest phone call she’d ever been a part of.

**_“Then why are you calling? I’m kinda busy trying to figure out what colour would fit best with the plans I have for your room. Do you have any particular love of aqua marine?”_ **

“It’s… good? I kinda prefer mint green, though - wait, I was calling you to ask about something.”

**_“Ah. Alright. Why didn’t you just say so?”_ **

Good grief.

“I was just… if I insulted one of your friends and said they were untrustworthy, and then called a few hours later to ask forgiveness… what would your opinion be?”

**_“Is this about that girl you had a fight with, and the subsequent breakdown you had? I must mention, by the way, that the ‘pitiable’ look does not fit well upon you. Try to say not miserable in the future. What was that girl’s name? Maxine, the bitch said?”_ **

“Max. She… prefers Max.” She decided to ignore the rest of that statement. “But… let’s say it was. For argument’s sake. Would you… suggest I call her? To apologise?”

**_“...That would make you feel better about it, so - yes. I would suggest it. Honestly, I don’t really care about Maxine and/or Max - but whatever brings you catharsis, do that. And don’t call me again unless you have sex toys to offer, or something important to ask. I prefer to text.”_ **

“...Okay?”

That wasn’t really… incredibly helpful, but. Kate supposed she was right, in a way. Calling Max would bring  _ her _ catharsis, at least - even if Max wouldn’t forgive her.

...Couldn’t hurt to try, right?

“Thanks, Brooke. I’ll call her.”

**_“Wonderful. We’ll speak tomorrow.”_ **

_ Click. _

So, in summary, she’d learned that Brooke was weird over the phone as well as in person, that she had some odd desire for sex toys, and that she gave very weird but slightly insightful advice.

She took a moment to make a note of all these things in the back of her brain, before calling Max.

_ Brrrring. _

_ Brrr- _

**_“What?”_ **

That… wasn’t Max.

“...Chase?”

**“Noted.”**

_ Click. _

Why… why did Victoria have Max’s phone?

She’d… stormed in, asking where Max was earlier…

Actually, that brought a valid question.

Where  _ was _ Max? Not in her dorm, apparently, and not with her, so probably…

Hanging out with Chloe Price.

After Kate had warned her off.

...But…

_ No. I won’t let this happen again. _

_ I’ll… give Price the benefit of the doubt. Max says she’s nice - and if you can’t trust Max…  _

She was going to give a criminal, thief, reprobate arsonist, the  _ benefit of the doubt. _

_...Okay, I’m not gonna assume she’s NICE, but… I won’t say anything bad. I’ll give her a chance - albeit a very suspicious one. _

That… she could manage that.

Maybe.

But that still left the question of why Victoria had Max’s phone.

...Well, she could just ask Max.

She just had to find out where she was.

…

Oh crap.

_ Oh crap. _

_ Okay, okay - not the time to panic. _

_ Sure, I have literally no idea where Max is for the first time in six years, but… no time to panic. _

_ Can’t panic. Can’t panic. _

_...Call Brooke. She’ll help. _

_...Somehow. _

Yeah. Yeah, Brooke could help. She was smart.

_ (She tried not to listen to the tiny voice that asked how on earth Brooke would ever be able to help with this.) _

She dialed.

_ Brrrring. _

_ Brrrring. _

_ Brrrr- _

**_“Well, that was fast. Telemarketing hires quickly.”_ **

“No, Brooke, I need your help.”

**_“Okay. With what, exactly?”_ **

“I have no idea where Max is - she ran off with that friend, Chloe Price. I need to know where they could’ve gone.”

**_“How could I-... did you say *Chloe Price*?”_ **

“...Yes?”

**_“As in, Rachel Amber’s best friend, Chloe Price?”_ **

“...How on earth did you know that?”

**_“Rachel works at a coffee shop I go to sometimes, and I’m a people watcher. Been doing it for years.”_ **

“Well, yes. I’ve read about them hanging out in my church’s newsletter. Do you… have any idea where they could’ve gone?”

**_“Well, they could’ve gone to Rachel or Chloe’s house - but I’ve never caught the address of either of those. Less likely but still quite probable is that she took Max and/or Maxine to the junkyard - her and Rachel go their after work a lot.”_ **

“...You don’t actually  _ stalk _ them, do you?”

**_“They just aren’t very secretive. Rachel in particular is quite loud, even when trying to use a normal speaking voice. I suspected she had ear damage for a while, but she has no health problems, apparently - according to Chloe Price, anyway. But anyway - the junkyard is probably your best bet that we have a concrete address for. It’s pretty close - a five minute drive or so.”_ **

“That was… actually incredibly helpful. Thanks, Brooke.”

**_“No need to thank me. I like feeling smarter then other people and passing on important information.”_ **

“...Okay? Thanks anyway.”

**_“Goodbye, Kate.”_ **

“Go-”

_ Click. _

...Alright. She had a plan. Drive to the junkyard, talk to Max if she’s there, figure out why Victoria has her phone and maybe apologise to both Chloe and Max for being a stubborn low-life.

...Easy enough, surely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayyy we brought the people watching thing back.
> 
> I have an answer why Brooke wants sex toys, but I want to hear your theories. And they aren't for use in actual sex, or any sexual activities. Give me the reason you think Brooke is looking for sex toys.
> 
> Wallflower,
> 
> -Howard R.


	17. Not Important, Not Relevant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Brooke is sick.

Brooke felt the page beneath her fingers, and wondered.

And thought.

She’d never quite been good at thinking. She was better at doing. At  _ deciding. _ Thinking, wondering, philosophizing - these were things that simply weren’t for her. She could do it, if forced. Maybe she was even good at it. But it just wasn’t for her. Something she didn’t quite enjoy.

She was better at just making a split-second decision.

Kate was like that moment she hated. The moment when something looked at her, right in the eyes, and asked her to  _ think _ \- the moment before the decision was made, the moment when she had nothing to do but wonder and fret and fear.

Fear made her sick.

Kate made her sick.

She was an art major.

Her pen touched the page again, and gently ran another inky stroke across the page.

She didn’t usually make pieces on actual paper, with actual tools. She was better with technology. But she knew how to use this fountain pen, and she knew that this piece wouldn’t’ve worked any other way.

Trees ran along the path like veins, and roots crawled across the gravelly road - laced with green. On every tree sat a collection of miniscule frames - with pictures gathering sun and exposure below the thin layer of glass that reflected in the low sunlight.

A million choices, hung up in frames - untouched and unchanging.

It was her head, and her life. Drawn.  _ Known. _

She could hang it up.

But mist gathered in the crevices in the bark, and fog collected between the stones in the road. The mist of thought - of  _ fear. _

It sickened her to think of it. It sickened her to know of it.

It sickened her.

_ Kate _ sickened her.

She was sick, and tired, and very  _ very _ thoughtful.

She gently tore the page out of the notebook, and laid it on her desk. Considered it in the light.

It was garbage. Just like the rest of her work.

But it was done, at least. That was something.

It was only now that it was done, that she saw all the flaws in it - so glaringly obvious now that she couldn’t change them.

She reached up for the clothesline, running from her shelf to her cabinet.

And hung the photo up on it.

It was done. She had done it.

It looked worse in the open.

Well. Wasn’t like anyone else was coming in her anyway.

_ (Her stomach turned a little, at the thought that Kate had been in here just hours prior.) _

She inspected her nails. Overly long.

She should paint them. Black, probably.

Yes. Black. She’d paint them black.

_ (Kate preferred mint green. Maybe she should paint them green.) _

Maybe.

Yeah, she’d painted them black last time. Then took the paint off. She should mix it up a little this time.

Mint green it was.

_ (She should go ahead and order some food. It was getting late. She was hungry. Oh, and there was that math assignment to work on. It was due two days from now. And she should text Kate, too, ask how that Max/Maxine thing went. But she was tired, being on her phone wouldn’t help with that.) _

She massaged her temples, and wondered where her headache meds were.

_ (Maybe she should take some ibuprofen instead.) _

No. Too strong. This wasn’t migraine heavy, it was just a headache. A BC Powder would do.

_ (This whole thing was making her rethink her latest project.) _

Not an option. Kate’s dorm was unacceptable, she knew that perfectly well.

_ (Kate made her sick though. Dreadfully so. Kate made her thoughtful. She should just abandon her while she had the chance, ghost her for a few days, pretend this never happened.) _

Not an option.

_ (Sure it is. Besides, she’s already prying. You know what happens after prying.) _

Not important, not relevant. She had decided already, and that was that.

_ (But Kate’s making you rethink decisions anyway, isn’t she?) _

Not Kate’s fault. Not anyone’s fault but her’s. She should’ve made a better decision at the time. She had misread Kate, and that was her fault.

_ (You’ll get sick. You’ll get thoughtful. You’ll get mad, and you’ll get intruded on, and you’ll do something stupid.) _

Not important. Not relevant.

Mint green nails it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brooke is the closest thing to a self-insert this fic will ever have. 
> 
> This took longer to upload then intended, because *someone* took my laptop while I was trying to write. (Looks meaningfully at significant other.)
> 
> And this is a good time to take a break! The resolution of Dorks and Punks will have to wait a while. Me and my significant other are about to take a little trip away from home to go explore some woods. Should be fun - it's my job to get rid of the tumbleweed in our way, though, which I am /not/ looking forward to. Did you know that tumbleweed is SUPER ANNOYING? It's the most bothersome weed in existence, I tell ya. And it's super thorny, too. But my significant other used the 'ask right after sex' strategy, so...
> 
> Happy world teacher's day!
> 
> Wallflower,
> 
> -Howard R.


	18. Sinful Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kate is a sinner, and Brooke isn't actually anxious.

“I cannot believe this.”

“Cannot believe what?”

“You do not drive a  _ Tesla.” _

Brooke shrugged, opening the driver’s side door and gesturing her into the car.

“Yes, actually, I do. Get in before I change my mind and leave you out here in the cold.”

Kate stared at the car, unable to move.

Brooke’s Tesla  _ (she ACTUALLY drove a Tesla and Kate could NOT get over it) _ was painted a slick forest green, that reflected oddly in the street lights and white glow from the windows of the nearby police station.

_ (Her crush had just gotten so much worse.) _

“Is this a joke?” She muttered under her breath.

“My jokes aren’t that funny, Kate.” Brooke said, opening the passenger side door for her. “Now, get in. You’ll let all the warmth out if you just stand there.”

She, almost automatically, sat down in the seat of-

Of  _ Brooke’s Tesla. _

_ (Maybe Mom would approve if she knew about this?) _

She silenced the voice, starting to feel a little nauseous again.

She wasn’t thinking about that right now.

The car hummed slightly beneath her as she closed the door, a little more gingerly then was strictly necessary.

It _ was _ warm in the car.

The light of the tablet screen on the dashboard between them reflected in Brooke’s eyes, and  _ oh lord in heaven. _

_ I will not think sinful thoughts. _

_ I will not think sinful thoughts. _

_ I will not think sinful thoughts. _

_ (Oh, no, she couldn’t possibly. Couldn’t think for even a moment about how the light played against Brooke’s skin, and how it would glint against Kate’s nails if she leaned over to press her lips to Brooke’s neck-) _

_ I will not think sinful thoughts. _

_ (And how it would glint off Brooke’s perfectly white teeth when her lips parted, to let out a breathy little moan-) _

_ I WILL NOT THINK SINFUL THOUGHTS. _

“Kate? Still with us?”

She blinked, bringing herself crashing back to earth quite forcefully.   


“Huh? Sorry, uhm - what did you say?”

“I was asking if you wanted to drive.” Brooke said, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

Kate blinked.

Again.

“...Huh?”

Brooke rolled her eyes.

“You really are incapable of understanding the basics of human speech, aren’t you?”

Kate glared at her weakly, and very much  _ didn’t _ think about how Brooke’s eyes reflected in the light.

“I asked if you wanted to drive, you absolute schlemiel.”

“I… uhm.”

_ Did _ she?

“That’s… I would love too, Brooke.”

Brooke glanced at her - and her eyes sparkled slightly, in that way that told Kate she was holding back a smile.

“Don’t crash.”

And with that, Brooke stepped out of the car.

Kate slid into the driver’s side - and her fingers held the wheel gingerly, like it was a priceless artifact.

The door slammed closed across from her, and she startled slightly.

“Alright - take us back to the school.”

Suddenly, though, Brooke stopped - looking up like something on the ceiling had caught her attention.

“Actually - I’d like to get something to eat first. To Hardee’s, if you will - they have good fries.”

“Can… I get something too?”

Brooke glanced at her, and gave her a look like she was an absolute idiot.

“Of course.”

Kate felt a little heat crawl into her cheeks - and stared at the windshield to keep from glancing at Brooke.

Brooke, who still had her hair down, and was still wearing those skin-tight jeans with tears at the knees.

Brooke, who  _ had a Tesla. _

She gently lowered the gas pedal.

* * *

Brooke was in the interesting and very new position of riding shotgun in her own Tesla.

She preferred driving, but this worked fine too.

She had never been happier to have gotten those driver’s ed classes. Actually driving made the monotony worth it.

But Kate driving her around was... odd.

She could so clearly see a world in which Kate was her private chauffeur. And she wasn’t a bad driver at all - certainly not as careful about it as a lot of other women Brooke knew. Hell, she was actually starting to push the speed limit by now. Who knew the Christian girl was a careless driver.

She glanced at Kate, who was holding the wheel in a white-knuckle grip and staring out at the street like it was a very dangerous foe.

_ (She should really relax.) _

“Not so tight, Marsh.”

Kate glanced at her hands - and seemed surprised when she saw them holding the wheel in a death grip.

She relaxed a little.

“Sorry.”

Brooke blinked.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

Kate didn’t say anything to that.

Brooke glanced at her again.

The lights played on her hazel eyes. The street lamps glittered against her pupils like stars.

_ (Her stomach turned.) _

Oh. Oh, Christ, that was sickening.

Anxiety, it must be. For the car, probably - she was worried Kate would crash it.

Nonsensical. Kate was perfectly capable. But she supposed anxiety was always a little nonsensical.

_ (She’d never had nonsensical fears before, though.) _

She glanced at Kate again.

“You put your hair up again.”

Kate blinked, but didn’t look away from the windshield.

“Yeah?”

“Why.” Brooke said, flatly.

“...It looks better?” Kate offered, tilting her head towards Brooke without looking away from the road.

“No, it really doesn’t.” Brooke said. “You should really let it out.”

“I can’t really do that right now.” Kate said, tilting her head towards the road.

Brooke considered.

And then reached over across the seat.

Kate went very, very tense.

Brooke, gingerly, ran her hands through Kate’s hair - and pulled it out of its bun.

It fell.

Brooke, quickly, reached forward to pull it back from Kate’s face - so it cascaded down her back instead.

Her nails, very gently, scraped against Kate’s neck.

And Kate  _ shuddered. _

Brooke stopped.

“...Are you cold?”

“Huh? What?” Kate said, a little louder then Brooke thought was strictly necessary.

“You shivered.”

“I - I did? I… uhm. I hadn’t - I mean, I didn’t really... no, I-I’m not cold.”

“Are you sure? You’re stuttering too.”

Brooke peered at Kate, very carefully - and couldn’t help but notice that the line of her spine had never been more tense, and that a light pink flush was starting to creep up her neck.

The flush was just more evidence she was cold. She wasn’t sure what the tension meant - but it was probably just because she was uncomfortable. Again, as could be explained by the cold.

“I’ll turn the heat up.”

She reached for the dash - ignoring Kate’s insistence that  _ ‘I’m fine, really, you don’t need to-’ _ \- and swiped the screen, fiddling with some settings.

Kate fidgeted across from her.

_ (She really did look much better with her hair down.) _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, Brooke's rich. Prove me wrong. That's right, you can't. 
> 
> She has a drone, anyway. Which totally won't come into the story at any point.
> 
> Wallflower,
> 
> -Howard R.


	19. Watch Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kate and Brooke eat some Hardee's.

They pulled into the drive through of the closest Hardee’s quite sedately, considering Kate’s lead foot.

Kate, who was trying very hard not to even glance at Brooke.

_“Welcome to Hardee’s, can I take your order please?”_

Kate did her best to order something small - lucky, that she’d never given up her childhood love of chicken tenders. She turned to Brooke, to ask what she wanted to order - and, was thus a little dumbstruck when she saw a very empty passenger side seat.

She turned back to the open window and receiver - to find Brooke leaning against it, opening her mouth.

“And three large fries, with ten packs of honey mustard.”

A pause.

_“Could you repeat that please?”_

Brooke rolled her eyes - but repeated,

“And three large fries, with ten packs of honey mustard.”

Exactly the same inflection.

_“...And will that be all?”_

Brooke raised her eyebrow at Kate.

Who paused.

“Um… yes, that’ll be all.”

_“That’ll be sixteen dollars and sixty-six cents.”_

“Alright. Thank you!” Kate added hastily, as Brooke got back in the car.

The second she was back in, Kate turned to her.

_“Ten packs_ of honey mustard?”

“This place has the second best honey mustard on earth - right behind Bojangles. I’ve ranked them.”

Kate resisted the urge to burrow her head in her hands. She was driving, after all.

“And this place has good fries. Usually fresh. Those new Bojangles fries are also really good - thick cut.”

“I thought Bojangles did potato wedges?” Kate hummed, looking away from Brooke again - because the light glinted off her neck in _that way_ that made Kate want to think sinful thoughts.

“They do, but they’ve got fries too. Maybe it’s a recent development.” Brooke shrugged. “Oh, and it looks good from above.”

“...What?”

“The Hardee’s. It looks good from above.”

“How would you… you didn’t climb on top of a Hardee’s roof, did you?”

“Hm? Oh, no, I have a drone. Actually… that’s not a bad idea, though. Let’s climb on top of this Hardee’s roof.”

“We are _not_ climbing on top of a Hardee’s.”

* * *

“How did you talk me into this?”

Brooke tilted her head softly in Kate’s direction, considering the ledge line and the patio overhand.

“Effectively. Now, I’m going to hoist you up - you should be able to drag me up better. You’ve got upper body strength.”

“Not really.” Kate muttered.

Brooke turned to her.

“Yes, you do. Don’t make me lift our shirts to prove it.”

She turned back to the Hardee’s before she got the chance to notice Kate’s breath hitch.

“I mean - it’s just a fact that I don’t. We can - I mean. Uh.”

Brooke blinked.

Turned to Kate.

She was turning a very, _very_ dark shade of red.

“I may have abs, but that doesn’t mean I have upper body strength.” Brooke said - mostly to bide time while trying to figure out what on earth was going on in Kate’s head.

“You… have abs?”

Kate’s voice was very thick. Brooke hummed thoughtfully, still considering the building before her.

“Technically, everyone does.”

“Oh. Okay. But not like… visible.”

“Oh, yes. No, not everyone has visible abdominal muscles. Obviously.” Brooke tilted her head again, wondering if she could grip that thin ledge. “But I am not everyone.”

“You… I don’t believe you.”

“Well, here and now is hardly the place to prove it.” Brooke said. “I’ll settle this when we get back to school. For now-”

Brooke turned, and joined her hands at her knees.

“Use my hands as a foothold and get up on that patio-roof. Then you’ll hoist me up.”

Kate did not look in the mood to do either of those things.

“This is _so_ dumb, Brooke.”

“This is an experience I am not passing up, Kate. If you don’t want to help me - you don’t have to. Go back to the car, and you can eat your tenders while watching me climb up.”

It would be much harder to get up to the roof without Kate’s help, of course - but she couldn’t, and wouldn’t, force Kate to do anything.

Kate stared for a moment.

And then sighed.

“I can’t believe I’m actually gonna do this.” She muttered, stepping up and gingerly lowering her foot onto Brooke’s joined hands.

“Quickly, now - I don’t want to hold you for long.”

Kate, finally, hoisted herself up - Brooke did her best to stay still under the weight of her foot, but it wasn’t easy - and put a foot on Brooke’s shoulder, before grabbing onto the edge of the patio roof.

She managed to lift herself up, with some very unladylike noises - and offered her hand.

Brooke couldn’t quite help but smile - though she managed to squash the unwelcome thing pretty quickly.

She took the two bags of food, and handed them up - Kate sat them next to her - and then grabbed Kate’s hand.

* * *

They managed to get onto the roof, after some risky maneuvers with a thin ledge and a few _very_ close calls, with both falling off and stepping on the food.

But Brooke considered it worth it.

When she’d opened up her bag of fries, she’d been happy to discover they’d all spilled out of their containers - so, instead, she simply set the empty containers aside and used the bag as it should’ve always been used. As a fry holder. After finding her sauce, of course. And the packets might have been a little greasy, but it wasn’t a problem. She’d end up with greasy fingers anyway.

Kate, meanwhile, hadn’t touched her tenders - and was eyeing up her fries very obviously.

Brooke paused, and raised an eyebrow at her.

“Want one?”

Kate smiled sheepishly.

“Yes please.”

Brooke sat the bag of fries between them.

Kate dove upon her fries with a passion that Brooke hadn’t known she possessed, and devoured them one by one - in a manner so quick that Brooke could hardly even tell she wasn’t shoveling full handfuls into her mouth.

After at least a baker’s dozen fries, Kate finally paused long enough to actually swallow.

“If you wanted fries so badly, you could’ve asked.”

Kate flushed down to her collar.

“Just - the tenders were burnt, and I’m really hungry.” She muttered. “Sorry.”

Brooke raised her eyebrows.

“Your tenders were burnt?”

“Yeah. It’s okay though.”

Brooke hummed.

“We can get you some more. I _am_ loaded.”

Kate made a tiny, amused noise.

“No, thanks. Let’s just eat some fries.”

Brooke stared at her for a moment.

The moon was behind her - a waxing crescent, she could tell. She wasn’t an astrology buff, but she knew her lunar phases and she was still waiting on that super moon next month. Kate’s hair - down again, thank God - glinted oddly in the nighttime light.

Her skin was paler then Brooke had first noticed. The edge of her collarbone was visible through the collar of her shirt. It traced through her pale, off-white skin and dipped below her adam’s apple.

Kate leaned back, and her head lolled with the motion to expose her pulse point.

_(Her stomach turned.)_

Oh. Oh, _God,_ it was worse the second time.

She felt like she was going to throw up.

Her hand tightened against the edge of the roof.

She didn’t say anything.

Kate bit her bottom lip thoughtfully.

_(A crawling sensation ran through her skin - itchy and uncomfortable, like needles.)_

Her knuckles were white against the black backdrop of the sky.

_(Kate looked like a sculpture in this light.)_

“I think I’m going to be sick.” Brooke said - and her voice came out very flat.

Kate blinked - and sat up, turning to her sharply.

“What? Are you - was your food bad? Why-”

“Nevermind.” Brooke said - and her voice was devoid of the confusion that was stirring in her chest. “I’m fine.”

_But why?_

“Are you sure?” Kate said - and she was peering in a very concerned way that made her look quite pathetic.

Brooke didn’t like Kate much.

She didn’t like anyone.

She loved Mom and Dad, of course. But she didn’t _like_ anyone. She’d never had friends. It didn’t end well.

She didn’t like Kate.

Kate wasn’t very intelligent. It was unfortunate - because she was polite enough. Accommodating. But she was pathetic, too. Kind. _Blithe._

And Kate sickened her.

She had a very bare room. With stars, now, luckily.

She had blonde, glittering hair that looked better cascading down her shoulders.

She had wide, doe-like eyes.

She had a lack of interesting vocabulary.

She had a bad habit of repeating things Brooke had just said.

“What are you majoring in?” Brooke said, instead of answering.

Kate looked taken aback for a moment.

“The creative arts. Uhm - music, mostly.”

“Music?” Brooke hummed.

Kate nodded.

“Yeah. I was in my Church’s chorus - and I really enjoyed it. I wasn’t super sure what I wanted to do after that, but… music seemed like the obvious choice when choosing a major.”

“Can you sing me something?”

Kate blinked.

“Like… right now?”

“Yes. Like right now.”

Kate was turning a little bit pink under the moonlight.

Brooke’s hand, tight against the roof edge, loosened a little.

“I kinda… it’s… I mean. I - sure?”

Brooke sat back, laying her hands against the flat stone.

Kate hesitated.

Took a deep breath.

And began to sing.

_“Leet’s go in the garden,_

_Yooou’ll, find something wai-ting,_

_Riiight, there where you left it,_

_Lying up, side, down.”_

Brooke blinked.

She knew this song.

_(And Kate sung it very…)_

_“When, you finally find it,_

_Yooou’ll, see how it’s fa-ded,_

_The unn-derside is lighter,_

_When you turn it around.”_

Kate stopped - and sent her a hesitant, hopeful, sheepish glance.

Brooke stared for a moment.

“...Go on.” She said, finally - and her voice was full of some emotion she couldn’t quite name.

Kate hesitated again.

_“Ev-ery-thing stayyys,_

_Riight where you left it,_

_Eve-rything stayys,_

_Buuut it still chan-ges._

_Ev-eer so slight-ly,_

_Daaaai-ly and night-ly,_

_In little ways,_

_When evvv-erything stays.”_

Kate was breathing a little heavily by the time she finished.

Brooke stared.

“...Uh. How was that?” Kate muttered - and she flicked her hair away from her eyes with a dismissive movement.

Brooke blinked.

“...Good.” She said, finally.

_(It was a lie. Kate wasn’t good - she was great.)_

“You picked well.” Brooke flicked her hair back. She’d wanted to tie it back up, but she hadn’t found the time. “I think there might be a future for you in this.”

Kate blinked.

“...Really? Mom always... said I needed practice.”

“Well, it can’t hurt, I suppose - but that was quite good. I’d applaud you.”

Kate stared at her for a long, long moment.

“...That… means a lot, Brooke. Coming from you.”

Brooe blinked.

“‘Coming from me’?”

Kate went a little pink.

“Uhm. Because you’re… smart? And I like you? And you’re hard to please?”

Brooke stared at her.

“...You like me.”

Kate went from pink to magenta in record time.

“...Yes?”

“That was a very hesitant yes.” Brooke said - though there wasn’t really any bite in her voice.

“Yes. I like you.” Kate said, a little more confidently this time.

Brooke stared at her.

“...Uh - Brooke?”

And shook her head.

Thought.

And then, hesitantly - unrolled her left sleeve.

Kate glanced down - confusion painted on her features. There was a nip in the air that bit at the blonde’s button nose, slightly pink from either the cold or her blush.

Kate blinked when she saw Brooke’s watches.

* * *

Kate knew - knew in a way that really didn’t make a lot of sense, in a way that was more instinct then logic - that this was more important then it seemed.

Brooke, with a very steady but slightly slow hand, undid the strap on one of the two watches she was wearing. 

They were identical.

She slipped it off.

Kate stared.

The scar on Brooke’s arm was lit white in the moonlight. The skin around it was slightly risen - and it had a texture like very thin tire tread.

“Your arm.”

Kate - numbly - offered her arm.

Brooke gently grasped her hand, and rolled up one of her sleeves - before beginning to fasten the watch to her wrist.

She didn’t say anything.

Brooke didn’t say anything.

After a long moment - the watch was secure on her arm.

Brooke let go of her hand.

The skin tingled where she’d touched it.

Kate flipped her arm over - and inspected the watch.

It had a second hand - and she could tell from just a glance, that it was perfectly in-sync with Brooke’s.

“The hands are limestone.” Brooke murmured, without prompting. “They were custom made. You may already know this - but limestone is made from the bones of dead sea creatures.”

“...I didn’t know that.” Kate said, glancing up at Brooke.

“Well. You now know that. I have bestowed upon you - the knowledge of the sea.”

Kate laughed weakly.

Brooke smiled.

And not much was really important besides that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me thinks there's symbolism about.
> 
> Long chapter. It's quite early. My internet provider is *garbage*, so it was out last night when I wanted to upload this. I thought I should warn you, in my spare time, that this fic is officially not kid friendly - and thus, smut, of both the fantasy and reality varieties, could descend at any moment.
> 
> I'm never sure whether to comment on my own scenes. It feels very odd to mention these things that you probably already picked up on. But I kinda wanna talk about it.
> 
> ...I dunno. I hope you enjoyed. Thanks again for reading.
> 
> Wallflower,
> 
> -Howard R.


	20. Landing Lights

“What’s your type?”

Brooke was driving, now. Kate had said she didn’t really wanna drive any longer - that they’d pick her car up in the morning. She just kinda wanted to pass out by now, though - it had been a  _ really _ long day.

Kate glanced at her.

“Huh?”

“Your type. As in, romantically. Sexually.”

Kate blinked at her.

“...Uhm… what’s yours?”

Brooke let out a breath, gripping the wheel a little tighter.

“I’m letting you get away with that dodge of the question.”

Kate’s face burned, a little.

“Height doesn’t matter.” Brooke said - and Kate let her focus drift to her. “They could be taller or shorter then me. But taut stomach, definitely. Thin, but not anorexic. Lean. Darker hair if it’s a boy, lighter for girls-”

Kate choked. Brooke didn’t seem to notice.

“-Preferably red. With girls, anyway. Maybe blonde, though I could definitely date a brunette. Blondes are idiots a little too often, but I do like blonde hair. Brown eyes. That might be an unpopular opinion - but I like amber. Hazel. Auburn. Warm colours. I don’t want to feel cold when looking at someone’s eyes. And no piercings, besides ear. No tattoos, either, though that one’s more negotiable then piercings. And I like hips. Not wide, but enough to grip. Love handles.”

Kate stared at her.

Brooke blinked - and sent her a glance from the corner of her eye.

“Yes?”

Kate’s face, instantly, felt like it lit on fire. She looked away.

“Nothing.”

_ (She tried not to think about how Brooke had just described her to a tee.) _

“Anyway. There. My ideal lover.” Brooke sent her a glance. “Your turn.”

“Oh.” Kate averted her eyes. “Um.”

_...My ideal girl. _

“She’d be… nice.” Kate muttered. “Sensitive. A romantic - like me. She’d like books. Smell like them when she came home, after a long night out. She’d be a cat person. Darker hair - brunette. And she’d have really distinctive eyes. Ones you couldn’t look away from.”

She gathered her hands in her lap.

“We’d have a home, out in the country. Nothing fancy - a cabin, maybe. And we’d have a cat. Kids, too - I want kids. Two daughters, and a son. And she’d come home, after a long night - kids tucked into bed already. The whole house dark and quite. I would be on the couch, waiting for her. And we’d fall asleep together, to the sounds of cicadas outside.”

There was a moment of quiet.

And Kate lit red.

“...Sorry. I didn’t mean to ramble.”

Brooke rolled her eyes.

“Oh, shut up. You rambling wasn’t the offensive part of that picture.”

Kate blinked.

“...Then what was?”

“You showed me up.” Brooke said, simply. “I’m describing someone I’d like to fuck - and you’re describing the life you’d like to have with your future, perfect wife. Now I look like a total slut, because you and I answered different questions.”

“...Oh.”

There was a moment of quiet.

“Don’t get morose about it.” Brooke said, gripping the wheel a little tighter. “You made a mistake. You’re human. Big shocker. Tell me your  _ type, _ this time.”

Kate shook her head, and tried to ignore the guilt brewing in her stomach.

“...Uh. Okay. She’d be… tall. A little taller then me, I think. Just an inch or two. She’d wear glasses. And she’d have darker hair. Dark brown, maybe black. I wouldn’t want it to be dyed - but highlights are okay. I like highlights. Uh… no piercings, I guess... I don’t really care what eye colour, but… bright. And she’d have long legs. She’d… um… work out. And she’d be really pale…”

Kate made the mistake of glancing at Brooke.

Brooke - with her long legs and skintight jeans. Brooke, sitting up in her seat - enough so that Kate could tell that, with decent posture, Brooke had an inch or two on her. Brooke, who had perfect, soft black hair that cascaded down her shoulders in ripples. Brooke, who had no piercings. Brooke, who had pale, soft skin.

Brooke, who had eyes a shade of brown so dark they were nearly black, glittering and perfect in the moonlight.

“...Uhm…”

_ (Brooke, who had a pale, tender neck that tensed beautifully in the light. Brooke, who was so close that Kate could lean over and press her lips to her collar, and lap at where her skin was so sensitive that she’d start to melt right in Kate’s hands. Brooke, with that callous, sultry voice that was perfect for breathy whines and choked-off moans-) _

Brooke, who was snapping her fingers in front of Kate’s face.

“Earth to Kate. Come in, Houston.”

Kate startled - and flushed to her collar.

“I’m fine!” She squeaked - and went a shade darker.

Brooke pulled her hand back again, and gripped the wheel.

“Well, we’re here.”

Kate blinked.

Looked up.

And… there was the school.

“Oh. ...We are.”

Brooke stepped out of the car. Kate rushed to follow her.

Brooke stuck her hands in her pockets as she walked to the door. Kate tried not to stare at her legs - and jogged a little, so she didn’t have to stay behind her for too long.

They walked up to the door - and Kate was about to open it.

Before Brooke’s voice stopped her.

“Wait.”

Kate glanced back.

Brooke stuck out a hand.

“Gimme your keys.”

Kate - slowly - blinked.

“...What?”

“To your car. Your keys. Give them to me.”

Kate reached into her pocket and dug out her keys - but couldn’t stop herself from asking,

“Why?”

“You don’t want to get your car. It’s just a forty minute walk - I’ll go get it for you.”

Kate, instantly, lifted her hands and began to protest.

“Oh, no, you don’t have to-”

“Obviously.” Brooke said, cutting her off very effectively. “But I was going to take a walk anyway, and you are not in any shape to drive. You look ready to drop.”

_...I am ready to drop. _

“I…”

“Don’t try to object any more. I’ll win. I was top of my debate club - and I ran it. Just give me the keys. Plus - you want to.”

Kate hesitated.

But - slowly - held out her hand.

Brooke snatched up her keys like a predator - and Kate only barely had time to notice her nails.

“...Your nails are painted.”

“Oh.” Brooke glanced at them. “Yes, they are.”

“...You… painted your nails mint green.”

“I did.”

“That’s… my favorite colour.”

“I know.”

_ (Oh.) _

_ (Oh no.) _

Brooke raised an eyebrow at her. “Well? What about it?”

“I… I’m just surprised.” Kate muttered - and really,  _ really _ tried not to kiss her.

“Why?”

“You painted your nails for me.”

Brooke looked remarkably like she had been slapped, for a moment.

“What? Don’t be loopy. Your mention of colours reminded me I needed to paint my nails - and I decided against black. And I  _ happen _ to also like mint green.”

Brooke wasn’t blushing, and she wasn’t stuttering - and yet, she was being a little more defensive then Kate thought the situation warranted.

Kate squinted at her.

“...Rrreally?” She hummed - and sure, maybe she was milking it, but she had something to tease Brooke about for the first time  _ ever _ and she wasn’t passing it up. “Because you only  _ decided to paint your nails _ after I mentioned my favorite colour, and you just  _ happened _ to decided to paint them that exact colour - and frankly, Brooke, that’s  _ quite _ the coincidence.”

“It wasn’t a coincidence.” Brooke said. “Your mention of mint green just reminded me how much I like that colour.”

“...But you  _ didn’t _ paint them for me.”

“Yes. I did not paint them for you.”

Kate nodded easily - though she couldn’t stamp out the tiny smile on her face.

“Okay then, Brooke. If you say so.”

“I do say so.” Brooke said, sticking the keys into her pocket.

_ (...Was that it? This night had gone on forever and had slipped through her hands like water.) _

_ (Brooke was lit white in the light, moonrays silhouetting her.) _

_ Kiss her goodnight. _

No. That was dumb - that was  _ so _ dumb, this hadn’t been a date, she’d  _ just _ gotten Brooke to start opening up-

_ (And she looked so beautiful at night.) _

_ Kiss her. You want to. _

There was nothing romantic about this - Brooke hadn’t even really been friendly.

_ She gave you a watch. Showed you her scars. Painted her nails for you. Told you her type was practically just you. What do you need, landing lights? _

It… it was too risky.

_ You only live once. _

“Goodnight.” Brooke said, very suddenly - already turning away.

And her chance was gone.

“G-goodnight!” She managed - and it sounded absolutely pathetic.

* * *

Being Brooke Scott wasn't as easy as people seemed to think it was.

Her hand, gently, traced the line on her wrist - exposed to the wind, now that she'd given one of her watches to Kate.

She had the scars to prove it.

No, being Brooke Scott wasn't easy. It never had been. And people hurled insults at her for being herself, and shoved her around the halls - and her mask was so perfect that they couldn't see the boiling point she'd been reaching for years and years.

Sometimes, she considered murder.

It wouldn't be hard. She wouldn't feel a thing. Plunge a knife into someone's stomach - down they go. Easy peasy, Japanesey. Maybe it would relieve some stress.

She didn't really _want_ to kill anyone, but she certainly _could._

_(...She hadn't painted her nails for Kate.)_

No, of course she hadn't. She'd _been there,_ it was ridiculous for her to even consider that an option. She hadn't painted them _for_ anyone.

_(Kate was a lesbian.)_

...That was certainly a development she hadn't been expecting. Kate Marsh, good little Christian girl, little miss perfect with straight A's - a closet lesbian. She hadn't even seemed to realize she was using female pronouns in her descriptions.

She was going to get Kate's car.

It was probably a pile of junk.

She licked her lips.

It was very cold outside.

...She wondered.

She was a people watcher. Not quite a professional - she wasn't paid for it - but a very good one. And, sometimes, she wondered about what people did when they were back home.

She didn't _stalk_ anyone. She just... wondered.

The inner workings of the average mind fascinated her. So slow and cumbersome. So inefficient. Plain macabre.

One of her favorites was wondering how someone would shower.

Rachel Amber, for instance. She'd luxuriate. Use up all the hot water. Take her sweet, sweet time. She'd have a whole row of products on her ledge - bottles upon bottles of cream and shampoo and body wash.

Chloe Price, on the other hand - she was a quick one. She hated taking showers. Leap in, leap out. Maybe she even took cold showers. She didn't have much product - no creams. Two-in-one shampoo and conditioner.

But she liked being _out_ of the shower. She had her sink counter littered with items. She'd take her time, drying off and putting on her clothes. Chloe Price probably _loved_ the feeling of cold air hitting her skin, after a shower.

She'd never wondered about how Kate Marsh took a shower.

...She didn't use any skin care products. Maybe lotion, but that was it for her. A little perfume - but not much. Just enough to get a whiff. She didn't have much on her ledge, either - she was on a budget. Her favorite part was probably brushing her teeth - the taste of mint.

_(Maybe she was taking a shower right now, before bed.)_

Maybe. Yeah, maybe she was. Hands folded in front of her chest - fog spilling out onto the bathroom floor.

Did she use a loofa?

...No. She didn't. Chloe did, but Kate didn't. She'd run her hands up from her hips, slick and smooth, up to the slender line of her neck - and bubbles would gather in the crevices of her shoulder blades-

_(Her stomach turned.)_

Oh. Oh, _oh God._

It just got worse and worse.

She gripped her stomach with one hand - and grit her teeth.

_(She'd never felt like this. Sick, sure, she'd felt that - but not this kind of sick, where it felt like her stomach was tying into knots and trying to escape through her throat.)_

What _was_ this?

It was sporadic. Unpredictable. It got worse, and worse, _and worse._ It made her want to crawl in a hole and never get out - it made her skin flush and crawl with something itchy and thorny. It - it didn't make _sense._

It only happened while she was thinking about Kate-

...

Oh.

Oh no.

Oh, no. No. _no, no, no no no nonononono._

She was _not_ attracted to Kate, she _was not attracted to Kate, she wasn't wasn't WASN'T._

...No.

She wasn't.

It wasn't attraction. It wasn't romantic. It _certainly_ wasn't sexual. 

...Anxiety.

Yes, that was it. Anxiety. Anxiety that Kate hated her - that this friendship would end like all the others. Anxiety that this was just an idiotic pipe dream that wouldn't end with anything but Kate tearing away all the changes to her dorm.

_(Right. She had to help Kate improve her dorm. It was far too bare._

_Someone was repressing her.)_

Her mom, probably. Judging from what she'd said about singing.

_(She was really good at singing.)_

...

Brooke was _fine._

She was fine.

_(She was always fine.)_

Her hand found the bare, white scar on her wrist.

_(...She should get back to walking.)_

Right. She had to get Kate's car for her. Kate had looked miserable by the end of the night - she was in no shape to get it herself. And then, tomorrow morning, she'd get to work fixing Kate's dorm.

She had a plan.

Things always made more sense with a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the first fic I've ever had with more comments then kudos.
> 
> Alright, I think I'm done with Chase the Dawn for a little bit. I can - maybe - get back to writing the actual plot. And we can finally get to figuring out what the hell is going to happen next.
> 
> I think we're approaching an end with Chloe and Max's story. But Brooke and Kate still have a while to go - and we should get some extra Pricefield stuff over here after Dorks and Punks is over.
> 
> The Google Doc this is all stored in is now 288 pages long. So. There's that.
> 
> Wallflower,
> 
> -Howard R.


	21. First Person I've Liked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kate is fine.

Kate stared into the mirror when she woke up. After using the bathroom, taking a shower, brushing her teeth - she was ready for the day.

She stared into the mirror, and wondered.

Her hair was down.

Brooke wanted it down.

She had a crush on Brooke.

Life was kinda complicated right now.

But everything had kinda crawled back to a baseline, after… everything with Victoria. She’d woken up this morning, and felt the weight of the last day slip off her shoulders like water. She woke up, feeling like a different person. She was going to work with Chloe, be a better friend to Max, act less like her mother. And…

And she had a crush on Brooke.

A girl.

She had a crush on a  _ girl. _

It wasn’t like Max. Max… Max was a complicated problem, that she still had yet to work out. Her feelings for Max were very complicated, and very tough to wade through. There, really, was only one time she’d ever even considered-

...But she wasn’t thinking about that.

She was thinking about Brooke.

Because what she felt for Brooke wasn’t very complicated at all.

She had a massive, stupid crush on Brooke.

She took a deep breath - and looked right through her reflection.

_ You’re fine. _

She wasn’t even really sure if she said the words aloud. It didn’t really matter.

_ You’re fine. You’re going to be fine. You’re going to work with Brooke on this World History project, and you aren’t going to be weird, awkward, sweaty, or stupid. _

_ Because you. Are. Fine. _

...She was fine.

And maybe she really  _ would’ve _ been fine - except, of course, the world kinda hated her.

_ Knock knock knock. _

She startled awfully - whipping around and opening the bathroom door.

Someone was knocking on the door to her dorm.

_ Knock knock knock. _

She stalked forward hesitantly - grabbing up her bookbag with a quick movement as she did and slinging it over one shoulder.

She opened the door.

And was wholly unprepared for Brooke to be standing there.

“Kate.” The brunette said - while Kate had to suddenly shift her thoughts away from psyching herself up, and instead focus on controlling her unbearable crush; already perking up at the image of Brooke, wearing something that was far more formal then yesterday. She had a brown, thin button-up sweater with the cuffs folded back once, to show off her watch, which was tucked into her loose black jeans. Apparently skintight jeans were for weekends only.

She adjusted her glasses casually, and she was the perfect picture of a straight-laced academic.

It was absolutely adorable.

“Brooke.” Kate managed to keep her voice mostly flat and emotionless - and she thread her other arm through the other strap of her bookbag. “What’s up?”

“I came to quickly review some plans for your dorm before class.” Brooke said, shouldering her way into the dorm and glancing around. “I must say, even with the stars - this place is even more macabre then I remember.”

“It’s not  _ macabre, _ geez.” Kate said. “It’s just… space-efficient.”

“It’s empty.”

“Well, if you wanna put it that way - sure.”

Brooke hummed something under her breath, taking a notepad out of her pocket - and Kate was sure that those were men’s jeans now. Those pockets were too big for women’s jeans.

“I’ll be paying for everything, of course.” Brooke said eventually, eyeing up the windowsill rather obviously. “But I wanted you to get the final say on everything before we start redecorating in earnest.”

“...Right.” Kate said. “Well, what did you - uh - have in mind?”

“Well, painting these walls would be a very good start.”

Kate blinked.

“Can… we do that?”

Brooke paused.

Slowly turned to her.

Stared at her, like she was a complete idiot.

“...Yes. We can do that. Almost  _ everyone _ does that in Blackwell - haven’t you ever visited a friend’s dorm?”

_ “Yes.” _ Kate said, a little more harshly then she meant to. She bit her cheek - and kept her tone as blank as she could when she course-corrected, “but I don’t think Max’s dorm was painted, and you had so many posters I could hardly tell.”

Brooke seemed to consider this argument.

“Irrelevant.” She said, eventually. “You should’ve known this.”

“Wh- how could I have possibly known about that?!”

“It’s common knowledge for all students.” Brooke said, voice utterly flat as she adjusted her glasses again - and it was probably just how unemotional she was about it that pissed Kate off.

“Well,  _ clearly _ not!! I didn’t know about it, Max never mentioned it - frankly, it seems like you’re just assuming everyone who doesn’t know what you do is an idiot!!”

“You  _ are _ an idiot.” Brooke said, without inflection.

Kate recoiled like Brooke had hit her.

“Now, as I was saying,” Brooke said - like she hadn’t just called Kate an idiot without blinking. “The best first step would be to-”

“You think I’m an idiot?”

Kate wasn’t sure whether the dark undertone to her voice was anger or hurt.

Brooke glanced at her.

Blinked.

“...Oh. I’ve offended you.”

“Wh- of course you have! You called me an  _ idiot, _ Brooke!”

Brooke suddenly looked a lot less confident.

“I didn’t mean it as an insult.” She said - and she didn’t sound confident, but she didn’t sound  _ apologetic, _ either.

“How could you  _ not?!” _

“Nearly everyone is.” Brooke said - like this was supposed to be some consolation.

“No, Brooke, they aren’t! And I’m not! You - geez, you aren’t even all that smart! I probably get better grades then you!”

“And Shawshank Redemption got awful box office returns.” Brooke said. Her voice hadn’t changed. “That doesn’t make it bad. The Shining got awful reviews, that doesn’t make it bad. I’m smarter then you are, Kate. I don’t mean that as an insult - I don’t mean anything by it. It’s just a fact.”

“Says the girl who provoked Victoria Chase!” Kate fired back - and her voice was getting louder, she was getting angrier. And it was only really because Brooke wasn’t responding. “Says the girl who never had a friend! Says the girl who had two  _ identical _ watches, when her sleeves covered her scars just fine!”

Finally -  _ something _ flitted across Brooke’s face.

She didn’t say anything, though. And, after a moment, even that miniscule response was gone.

And Brooke was just blankly staring at her again.

“I - I’m not an idiot, Brooke! And you can’t just - just  _ assume _ you’re smarter then everyone else!”

“It isn’t an assumption.” Brooke said, voice quiet and flat. “It’s a fact.”

“That’s just what I mean! What makes you think you’re smarter then I am?”

Brooke adjusted the strap on the bag slung over her shoulder.

“I had a perfect knowledge of the basics of trigonometry by fourteen.” Brooke said, voice still utterly inflectionless. “I know the five stages of corpse decay in great detail. I have the perfect word for any situation - including this one. And, most of all - I don’t lash out and get defensive when someone calls me an idiot.”

Kate, for a moment, had no response.

All of her anger drained away.

“...I’m  _ not _ an idiot.” She said - and her voice was a little more sullen then she’d meant it to be.

“I really  _ didn’t _ mean it as an insult.” Brooke said. “Lots of people are idiots. And, despite the fact that you’re an idiot - you’re the first person I’ve ever liked.”

Kate, for a moment, didn’t quite process the words.

The moment she did, though, she looked up - and stared.

“...You like me?”

“That is what I just said, Kate.” Brooke responded. “Please keep up. You might be an idiot - but you’re far smarter then most people. You don’t look at me like you want something I don’t have - at least, not too often. You don’t insult me, even when I’m rude. You’re kind, accommodating, constantly working to improve yourself - really, in everything but smarts, you’re far better then I. Really, if I had to choose anyone to-”

Brooke, very suddenly, went dead silent.

“...If you had to choose anyone to…?” Kate made a little ‘go on’ gesture.

“Nevermind. I was done.” Brooke said. She glanced away. “Besides, we’ve hardly got anything decided with your apartment. Let’s get back to the job at hand, hm?”

Kate, for perhaps the first time, felt like Brooke was deliberately changing the subject - not because of an interest in the subject she was changing to, but rather to avoid the subject at hand.

...She decided to let Brooke get away with it.

_ (She still had to ask about the scars on Brooke’s arm, though.) _

“Right.” Kate said, glancing around her own apartment like it was something very mysterious. “So - paint the walls?”

“Yes. I was thinking mint green.”

“Like your nails.” Kate said, with a tiny grin.

“Yes, like my nails.”

“Okay, we can paint the walls.” Kate said, giving Brooke a glance. “Wanna do that after school?”

“If I get to decide the music, and we order Chinese - yes.”

“I’m good with Chinese.”

Brooke glanced at her - and gave her one of those rare, fleeting smiles.

Kate’s heart fluttered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brooke is definitely the closest thing to a self-insert this fic will ever get. I dunno if I'd ever straight up call someone an idiot - but this whole scene was certainly something I've been on the Brooke side of once or twice.
> 
> Wallflower,
> 
> -Howard R.


	22. Tightropes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Brooke let's slip a nickname.

Talking to Kate, now, was like walking along a tightrope.

One one end, there was the distance she had to keep - the distance she had come far too close to closing just yesterday. She had to keep away, to a certain extent. She had to make sure she didn’t crack open like an egg - because the thoughts in her head weren’t for Kate to see. She had to keep away.

But, on the other end, there was the closeness she had to keep. Because, if she didn’t, she risked losing Kate. Or of alerting her about just how difficult it was, to keep interacting with her. On the other end, there was the risk of keeping  _ too _ far away, and closing up entirely. It was a safe option - a better option - but, somehow, it felt so much worse to lean into that side. It was safer, but… it was so much more sickening.

And there was a very, very thin line between the two - that Brooke was just barely managing to walk along.

She’d already tipped too far one way. She’d already opened up too much - before she’d even realized what she was doing. And she couldn’t escape that fact.

Because Kate was still wearing the watch Brooke had given her.

She’d cracked open. Like an egg. And she’d managed ot start cleaning up the mess - but she only kept this delicate balance because Kate had yet to ask about her scars.

Brooke had no idea what she’d do when Kate, inevitably, demanded answers.

She was walking along a tightrope.

She stepped into her World History class, already too aware of the balance she had to keep the moment she saw Kate, and Kate saw her.

_ (She shouldn’t’ve told Kate about being able to vomit on command. Now her only method of escape would tip her too far - would make it too clear that she was keeping a distance. And then Kate would question her. And it would all fall apart.) _

Her eyes found Kate only after Kate had spotted her.

Kate - who had her hair down.

_ (Well, that was good, at least.) _

Tightrope, Scott. Tightrope. 

Brooke shifted the bag slung over her shoulder, walking along the aisle and sliding into the seat next to Kate. Without glancing at her.

She set her bag aside, and rolled her nails against the table once.

“Kate.” She said, finally - turning to the blonde in question.

“Brooke!” Kate said, giving her a wide smile. “You didn’t skip class! Or throw up!”

“Of course not.” Brooke said. She kept her voice very flat.

_ (Tightrope.) _

“Why would I?”

“Because you’re weird?” Kate offered.

“I am not. You people are the weird ones.” She said, reaching into her bag and pulling out her history textbook. And laptop. “Now - project. Has the teacher talked yet?”

“She just said to get to work. That’s why I like her, actually.” Kate said, giving Brooke yet another smile. She was odd like that. “So - to work!”

“To work indeed.” Brooke said flatly, logging into her laptop with a few dismissive  _ clacks _ of her keyboard. “I was thinking we should talk about the Ptolemies.”

Kate blinked.

“The who?”

“I have a family tree here. Drew it up last night, while working out some of the plans for your dorm. They’re the family that eventually birthed Cleopatra - the famous one.”

Brooke dug around - and made a tiny noise in the back of her throat when she found the family tree in question. She laid it on the desk - and waited for the inevitable.

Kate looked at it.

Blinked.

Did a small double-take.

Looked again.

“...Are you sure you drew this right?”

“Yes.” Brooke said - repressing a grin.

Kate stared.

“...You’re  _ one-hundred percent _ sure?”

“Yes.”

“How… how are there so many Cleopatras in one family?”

Brooke blinked.

The laugh that left her bubbled up from somewhere deep in her ribcage. It tasted foreign in her mouth.

Kate sent her a very startled glance.

“That’s your first question?” Brooke said - and she bit her bottom lip for the first time in years, to stamp down on the grin on her face.

“There are like, seven!” Kate said, a little defensively - though she was smiling too, now.

“And there’s fourteen Ptolemies! There’s more incest there then in the Targaryen family. You’re  _ first question _ is about the seven Cleopatras?”

“Well, I mean - weren’t there other female names by that time? Geez - they named, like,  _ all _ of the women Cleopatra!”

“At least none of them had to worry about calling out the name of their ex-wife slash -sibling in bed.”

Kate made a noise that was either very disgusted or very amused. Or both.

“Eurgh.”

Brooke snorted.

“Blegh?”

“Blargh.” Kate said - and the smile on her face was very, very wide.

“Alright - but really now. Work. It must be done.” Brooke said, reaching for the textbook and glancing again at the family tree. “I chose the Ptolemies because they are both fascinating and disgusting. And important. It should make for a very easy, very effective presentation. With any luck.”

Kate seemed to consider it.

“But, I mean…  _ yuck.” _

Brooke let out a reluctant huff of amusement.

“Sacrifices must be made, Beverly.”

Kate blinked.

“...Did you just call me Beverly?”

And, just like that - the tension that had started to drip out of her spine came sliding back.

“Oh. Did I?” Brooke said - mostly to stall.

_ (She hadn’t been paying proper attention. Tightrope, Scott. And you’re slipping.) _

“Yeah.” Kate said.

“Sorry.” Brooke refused to glance at her. “Must’ve been a slip of the tongue. Won’t happen again.”

“...I… didn’t say I don’t like it.”

Brooke blinked.

Her hands, which had been finding the keyboard of her laptop, faltered.

“...Oh. Uhm. I - uh. Can I call you Beverly, then?”

“If you want to.” Kate said - and Brooke saw a hand come up to pick at the cuff of her sleeve.

“...Alright then.”

_ Beverly. _

It was a much better name then Kate. Less clandestine. Longer. Rolled off the tongue better.

More befitting someone so-

...

...It fit better.

“Well?” Brooke said, to distract herself from her dangerously wandering thoughts. “To work, Beverly. Research to do, writing to finish. Projects to get started on.”

“Uhm. Right.” Ka-  _ Beverly _ said, reaching into her bookbag.

_ (It was easier walking along a tightrope then she’d thought.) _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnnd they should be painting the apartment chapter after next.
> 
> If you guys are wondering about that Dorks and Punks epilogue and first date - well, don't expect it anytime soon. They should be pretty long though, so... it should be worth the wait when they do come out. Until then, some more Brookate. 
> 
> And next time, we should be addressing some fallout from Dorks and Punks. Which should be a long chapter. I dunno. Maybe.
> 
> Wallflower,
> 
> -Howard R.


	23. Dorks and Punks Epilogue, 1: Fallout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we review some events of the day after the Dorks and Punks finale.

_ Brrring. _

_ Brrring. _

_ Brr- _

**“Yo - what’s up, Rache?”**

“Do you have some time after work?”

**“For you? Always. Just an hour or two, though - I’ve gotta catch up with Max at five. What’s up?”**

“I… I just need to let off some steam. Let’s go by the junkyard, okay?”

**“Sure, dude. Wanna play with step-führer’s gun?”**

“You know me too well, Chlo.”

**“What can I say? You’re my best friend.”**

“...Yeah. You’re mine too, Chloe.”

**“...Do you wanna talk about it?”**

“Not really.”

**“Okay. I’ll pick you up in five?”**

“That would be perfect. Lemme throw on a jacket - it’s getting cold early this year.”

**“I like it. Always preferred the cold. I’m a real polar bear.”**

“You’re weird, is what you are.”

**“Well, yeah, that too.”**

“Seeya in five.”

_ Click. _

* * *

_ Contacts: _

_ Viccy _

…

**Delete**

* * *

When Chloe saw Rachel, she knew in an instant just why she’d called.

Her hands were in her pockets. Her eyes were deadly flat. There was a sharpness to her features - that spoke of some lingering pain. The corners of her mouth were tight.

She walked with very careful, very precise steps - like she was moving through a minefield.

Chloe stepped out of the car - and did her best to grin.

“Your favorite chauffeur is here!”

Rachel gave her a tiny, wavering smile.

“...Yeah. She is.”

“Allow me to ferry you off to far away lands.” Chloe offered, opening the passenger side door for her.

“Don’t crash.” Rachel said simply, sliding into her seat.

“I’m hurt you would even suggest such a thing, Rache.” Chloe said. She was more glad then ever that she could so easily hide the concern stewing in her gut.

She knew it was better to just keep Rachel’s mind off it. For now, at least - Rachel would tell when she was ready.

Still - she couldn’t help but send her bestie a tiny, wary glance as she sat back in the driver’s seat.

Rachel didn’t notice.

She turned the key in the ignition.

* * *

Mom and Dad visited a week after she’d been taken into the hospital. She’d be leaving the next day - they’d kept her there longer then was really necessary anyway. But she’d done her very best to keep her stay extended, so she didn’t have to be back in that monolithic house.

And to avoid the conversation that came when her parents entered the room.

She balanced a very careful tightrope, talking to her parents. Telling lies with a cold mask, showing just enough warmth to make them believe her. She knew that they didn’t quite believe her story. They knew that she knew.

  
But their family was built on a certain mutual distrust.

In the end, they accepted it. She was to come home the next day. She would not be spending time at any of her friend’s homes. She was not to contact anyone until she was healed.

She agreed.

There wasn’t really a choice on her part, anyway.

She learned only after coming home that Dawn had blocked her.

(She tried to tell herself that it was a relief, more then anything else. It meant Dawn wouldn’t be pressing charges.)

(Still - she spent most of the night, with nothing but memories and pain to keep her company.)

* * *

_ “Viccy? Please, you can talk to me - you can tell me any-” _

_ “Just shut up already, Dawn! I told you - I’m fine! I fell, and I got a scrape - it was dumb of me. I admit it. It won’t happen again, I promise. Just… leave me alone.” _

Her hand tightened around the handle.

_ “...Please, Victoria. Please - don’t lie to me.” _

_ “...I fell, Dawn. End of discussion. Now go away - I have to finish my work.” _

Her trigger finger tensed.

_ “That’s because she doesn’t exist. I, on the other hand, am very real.” _

_ She grinned. _

_ “Don’t I know it.” _

  
  
  


_ (Had it really all just been a lie?) _

She pulled the trigger.

A burst of light. The shattering of glass.

“Woo!” Chloe called, raising her hand for a high-five. “Nice shot, dude!”

Rachel lowered the barrel - and slapped Chloe’s hand a little harder then was strictly necessary.

“Yeah. It was.”

There was a moment of quiet.

“Your turn.” Rachel said - offering Chloe the handle of the revolver.

Chloe took it.

Hesitated.

And put it back in her pocket - flicking on the safety as she did.

“I think that’s enough shooting for today, actually.” Chloe said, glancing at her.

_ That’s enough schoolwork, Viccy - let’s go, come on! There’s this awesome place I found the other d- _

“If you say so.” Rachel said, voice toneless.

* * *

Victoria laid in her bed, staring at the ceiling - and wondered what might have happened if she’d met Dawn just a few years later.

Could they have been friends?

Would Dawn have even liked her?

(She knew the truth, though. If she’d met Dawn a few years later - they would’ve never shared a friendly word. She would’ve treated Dawn just like she treated Price, or Marsh. And Dawn wouldn’t have ever tried to be friendly back.)

* * *

Max got a text between classes.

When she took it out to glance at it, she’d been expecting something from Chloe - or maybe Kate. She and Kate still had to talk about… everything. Oh, and she had to mention her…

Her date with Chloe.

_ (Just the thought made her heart want to leap out of her chest.) _

What she wasn’t expecting was something from Victoria.

_ Victoria Chase >:X _

_ 1 Text Message _

…

She, for just a moment, wondered what to do.

...She opened it.

**Maxine.**

That was it.

No  _ sorry for slapping you. _ No  _ hey, how are you? _ No  _ so, what happened after I got knocked out - are you or your friend in jail? _

Not even  _ Max. _

She stared at it for a long, long moment.

She considered calling Chloe. Asking what to do, asking for help, asking for support.

But…

This wasn’t Chloe’s burden to bear.

This was her problem.

She stared at the message a moment longer.

_ Maxine. _

The anger started as a spark.

Just the tiniest flare - a little thing, like stone against flint. It lit low in her stomach, and hit the bottom of her insides - made itself known.

But, in a moment - it flared up.

Soon enough, the spark became a flare. The flare became a flame. The flame became a fire - and the fire spread.

Until it felt like her whole body was gripped with rage.

Her lips pulled back as she typed in a response - baring her teeth at the phone.

_ Fuck you. _

Send.

* * *

“...I cut ties with V- with Chase.”

Chloe glanced at Rachel.

She’d finally sat down and started to relax, just a minute ago. And she was finally talking.

Chloe blinked.

“...How do you feel?”

Rachel let out a breath.

“Like the weight on my shoulders moved to my chest.” She said, drawing a shape in the dirt. A spiral, to be specific.

“Do you need a hug?”

Rachel let out a little huff of amusement.

“Do you want one?”

“Always.” Chloe said, giving her a tiny smile.

Rachel turned to her and offered her a hug.

Chloe, instantly, yanked her in - and gave her the tightest bear hug she could.

Rachel gave her usual soft groan.

“You need to stop hugging so tight.” She managed to grit out - though her arms still came up to hug right back.

“Never!” Chloe exclaimed instantly.

She gave Rachel a last squeeze - and let go.

Rachel let out a relieved breath, rubbing her ribs.

_ “Ow.” _

Chloe snorted.

There was a moment of quiet.

“...You made the right choice, Rache.” Chloe said, finally.

Rachel sent her a glance.

“Thanks.”

Chloe knew that Rachel didn’t really believe her. But she also knew that, eventually - it would help.

* * *

_ Brrring. _

_ Brrring. _

_ Brr- _

_ “Max?” _

_ “Kate! Uh - I just wanted to tell you… ohmygosh I’m so excited, Kate.” _

_ “Huh? What is it, what’s happened?” _

_ “I - I asked Chloe out, Kate!” _

_ “...Oh.” _

_ “...Is something wrong?” _

_ “Oh, no, I’m just… surprised. That’s… that’s really great, Max.” _

_ “I know, right? We’re gonna get dinner!” _

_ “That’s wonderful, hun. I’m really happy for you.” _

_ “Oh - uhm - also… I… can you come over real quick? After class?” _

_ “Sure - if Brooke’s okay with it, anyway. Why?” _

_ “I… need you to help me pick out something to wear.” _

_ “...Hun.” _

_ “It’s really hard! I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard - it’s the first date, and it’s something casual, Chloe will just laugh if I wear something super formal, but - I should dress up a little, right? I don’t want to seem like I don’t care. Y’know?” _

_ “Max.” _

_ “Yeah?” _

_ “Chloe. Doesn’t. Care.” _

_ “...I should probably wear a jacket, right? It’s cold outside. But I’m already wearing long sleeves, may-” _

_ “Okay, okay, I’ll come over. Just… calm down. It’ll be fine. Chloe already adores you.” _

_ “Does she? Did - did she say that to you?” _

_ “Hun.” _

_ “I… I’m sorry. It’s just - I think I’m gonna be sick. But, like, in a good way? I dunno.” _

_ “...I know the feeling.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya.
> 
> So - uhm - I thought I'd mention...
> 
> I have a tumblr now! Uh, I'll link it here:
> 
> [AntimonyClouds](https://antimonyclouds.tumblr.com/)
> 
> I've reblogged two prompt lists - one for fluff and one for angst. Feel free to drop me an ask and prompt me, with or without a pairing in mind. I can't guarantee quality, but I can guarantee that it'll make me happy. Or you can just drop me an ask about anything, if you really desperately want to talk to me for some reason. I am probably going to post almost never, so you probably shouldn't follow me - but feel free to anyway.
> 
> Oh, right, and the chapter. Uhm. This is kinda the official epilogue, kinda not. This is the resolution to what I'm considering the actual plot of Dorks and Punks. There will be a second epilogue part, after Chloe and Max's first date - that'll be an epilogue for their relationship. Maybe it'll just be a little fluffy scene, or a proposal, or something else. Who knows.
> 
> We should be getting back to Brooke and Kate next time. Hope you enjoyed.
> 
> Wallflower,
> 
> -Howard R.


	24. Having A Crisis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Max is gay.

“Kate! And, uhm…”

“Brooke.” She supplied, lifting a hand. “I drove you and your girlfriend back to school from the police station.”

“Oh! Right, sorry. Thanks for that, by the way.”

“Don’t mention it.” Brooke said, waving her off.

“Uhm… come in, both of you. I’m having a… bit of a crisis?”

Brooke raised a cool, curious eyebrow - while Kate sighed lowly.

“Hun-”

“Just come in, okay?” Max said, stepping back and gesturing them in.

Kate instantly sat on the couch, shifting a little on the cushion. Max’s couch had never been particularly comfortable - they rarely spent any time on it. Brooke, meanwhile, instantly occupied herself with inspecting her photo wall.

“...Oh, look.” She said, pointing at one of the pictures. “It’s me.”

“Huh? Oh, right, uh - I kinda… take pictures of a lot of people on campus. I… hope it’s not  _ too  _ creepy?”

“I am officially creeped.” Brooke said flatly, sitting on her bed and taking out her phone. “I do hope you don’t mind me being on my phone. I’ve got an important piece of business to attend to.”

“It’s… fine.” Max said, tugging at a stray lock of hair in front of her face. “Uh… right. Anyway - Kate? Could you help me look through my drawers? Find something nice? I kinda want to wear that dress Vic-”

Max stopped talking very suddenly.

Brooke glanced up a moment later.

“...I sense a sudden awkwardness. Is this about the bitch?”

“She’s not a…”

Max’s protest died before it ever really picked up steam.

“There’s a problem at hand, ladies.” Brooke said, tapping something out on her phone.

“Right. I kinda wanted to wear - uhm - my dress, but… it kinda seemed like trying too hard, y’know? Like, I don’t wanna look needy and weird, and stuff. You know?”

“Max-” Kate tried.

“But if I look all casual, and  _ she _ dresses up, then I’ll look like such a tool! And I don’t wanna mess up the  _ first date _ \- oh goodness, I’m gonna ruin it,  _ I’m freaking out Kate.” _

“Max - geez,  _ calm down. _ Breathe hun.  _ Breathe.” _

Max gripped weakly at the bottom edge of her shirt.

“I just - I don’t wanna screw this up. But if I dress up, I’ll look  _ so dumb _ if she dresses all casual.”

“I… Brooke?”

Brooke glanced up at Kate’s pleading call.

“Tell Max she’s being dumb. Chloe doesn’t care - you know her, right? Tell Max she wouldn’t care.”

“...Max.” Brooke said, voice quiet and full of gravity.

Max glanced at her.

“Yeah?”

“I can solve this  _ whole _ issue in one minute flat.”

Max blinked.

And then - hope began to grow in her eyes.   
  


“Really? How?”

“Give me your phone.” Brooke said, holding out a hand.

Max, instantly - like Brooke had threatened her - desperately dug her phone out of her pocket, and handed it over.

Brooke turned it on - and turned it around a second later.

“Put in your password.”

Max tapped it in for her.

Brooke turned the phone back around, and tapped on it a few times. She squinted at the screen - which had lit white, and cast a soft glow on her eyes - and then turned back to her phone, tapping something into it, too, glancing back at Max’s screen for reference a few times.

“...What are you doing?”

“Sending the recording I took of you having a gay freakout to Price.” Brooke said, not glancing up from the screen.

“What?! No!”

Max lurched forward - and took her phone back. Brooke made a tiny, frustrated noise.

“Well that was rude.”

“I can’t - you  _ recorded  _ that?!”

“I assume you want it deleted, then.” Brooke said, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Please!”

Brooke sighed.

“...I would like to reiterate that simply  _ asking _ Price would solve this issue in a hear-”

“Not an option.” Max and Kate chorused - Max, with anxious certainty, Kate with reluctant sarcasm.

“She’ll think it’s cute as hell.” Brooke added.

Max lit red, and Kate made a tiny noise into her hand that might’ve been a snort.

_ “No.” _

“Have it your way, then.” Brooke said, turning around and hanging off the bed upside-down, so her hair scraped the floor.

(They end up spending the rest of the night debating clothing choices. Or rather, trying to convince Max her various anxieties are stupid. The only contributions Brooke makes are the occasional comment about palette choices, and how Max would look absolutely dashing in a tuxedo.

  
A comment which makes Max light red and Kate feel something very,  _ very _ weird at the bottom of her stomach.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter. Sorry.
> 
> Not much to say about this one. Max is a gay mess. Brooke is still my fave. Third person omniscient perspective is always a good copout move, for when you don't know which POV to choose. Hope you all enjoyed.
> 
> Wallflower,
> 
> -Howard R.


	25. We All Fall Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which love means a lot of things.

The place is empty.

Well. Nearly empty.

There are piles of ashes on the floor. One of the drapes is still on fire - Viccy knows it will burn itself out. Balloons and stuffed animals litter the floor. In the near distance, she can still hear some piece of technology sparking.

They’ve managed to run everyone out.

Dawn is cackling in the near distance, folding up her umbrella again. The ground is soaked in water from the sprinklers. Some buzzkill had pulled the fire alarm the second they’d noticed the way smog was spilling across the floor. 

No police are there yet. Viccy can’t be completely sure when they’ll arrive. A part of her almost wants them to come - to catch them in the act. She wonders what shade of red Dad would turn if he heard about this, before Mom took over for him.

These thoughts, she knows, are only there because she’s still drunk on victory. 

Dawn is putting the umbrella in the corner, now. Her delirious cackles have subsided - though there is still a wide, easy smile on her face.

Viccy knows her face has the same expression. She can’t bring herself to want it gone.

Dawn puts her hands in her pockets as she strolls over. She’s wearing the most garish, cheap suit she could get - bright orange with green polka dots. The polka dots are painted on, though, so they’ve dried into this sickening brownish colour. The cuffs of her sleeves are wet with sprinkler water, and ash is sprinkled in her hair. A light plays behind her eyes.

The bright white banner above the stage finally falls. Viccy just catches the words on it before it folds in on itself, hitting the ground.

_ Dance the Night Away! _

Dawn, with practiced nonchalance, wipes some of the ash off her pants. Her hair is in tangles - it has green highlights this week.

She’s never been more beautiful.

Viccy lets herself do something stupid - and sticks her hand out at Dawn.

“Would you care to dance?” she says, with some accent that vaguely borders on being British and a dismissive flip of her hair.

Dawn smiles - wide and sincere.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

When the police arrive, they find a completely ruined prom, and two teens, slow dancing in the center of an ash-covered floor.

* * *

Viccy knows she’s in love.

She’s never known love. Not from anyone, not for anyone. She’d never realized that love hurt this much - that it felt like hot acid, nibbling away at the walls of her stomach.

Well. Except when she’s with Dawn.

When she’s with Dawn, the love feels very different. It feels very warm - soothing and thick, running from her head to her toes. It makes her feel very safe - when it’s not making her feel like she’s boiling over.

_ That _ kind of feeling only comes every once in a while. When Dawn gives her one of  _ those _ smirks, or grabs Viccy by the hips to surprise her into making one of those very embarrassing noises that only Dawn could ever coax out of her, or licks her lips slowly and bites her cheek after making some comment about how Viccy looks perfect enough to ruin.

And, sometimes, love makes her feel very… wrong. Like something cold and nauseating is eating away at her head, and a weight is pressing on her ribs.

When Dawn says that Viccy is absolutely perfect just the way she is - and Mom’s voice echoes against the walls of her skull. When Dawn reaches over and holds her hand like its the easiest thing in the world - and Viccy can’t think about anything other then what Dad might think if he saw this. Whenever Dawn hugs her - and Viccy can’t quite bring herself to hug back.

...She doesn’t like being in love.

* * *

Viccy is fifteen when Dad mentions, in passing, that she has to cut ties with Dawn. Or with  _ Amber, _ rather. He says it like it’s not worth spending any time on - between more involved conversations about grades and career choices.

And maybe that’s what hurts more then anything else.

Dawn was always just a side note for Mom and Dad. She can’t even get the final victory of having her love cut out of her life with the gravitas it deserves.

Just a passing note.

* * *

Victoria is sixteen when she slaps Dawn. She’d tried to put it off as much as she could - but a part of her had always known that just ghosting Dawn wouldn’t really work.

She feels very small in that moment.

That’s all she feels.

Small.

She cries herself to sleep that night. When she wakes up, she throws away the scrapbook she and Dawn had made.

She doesn’t cry again for a long time after that.

* * *

Victoria is eighteen when she meets Maxine Caulfield.

* * *

And now, Victoria is nineteen.

She has nothing to live for.

She has fear. She has obligations. She has pain.

She has money.

She stares into the mirror for a long time that night, scarcely daring to think.

_ (She wonders if things could’ve been different.) _

* * *

Her parents wake her up the next morning.

Victoria wishes that Price had killed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the last mention of Victoria we'll get.
> 
> Well. For a long time, anyway. Maybe this'll be the end of her role in this story - but who's to say this is the last story she'll appear in, in this AU?
> 
> Three stories in the works for this series, I said. And that sounds like a lot of space for only five main characters to occupy.
> 
> But who knows.
> 
> Wallflower,
> 
> -Howard R.


	26. Not in the Mood to Write Today

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Brooke finds it easy to hate, and Kate does some snooping.

After interacting with Max - not Maxine, apparently, just Max - she and Kate had each gone off to do their own things for a bit. _Relax._

Urgh. Sure, maybe if she had a sensory depravation tank. But _relaxing_ wasn’t exactly something she was prone to.

Maybe she could relax when she was dead.

…

She was at Kate’s door.

Her hand curled up like a dead animal.

Interacting with Kate was… hard.

It was an odd experience. One that should have grown tiring long ago. Kate was… nice. Kind. _Blithe._ For a moment, she’d almost seemed more rude then Brooke had first thought - but apparently she had just been in a bad mood. After a fight with a friend. No, her first instinct had definitely been right.

Kate was _blithe._ That was the word that fit her. Brooke had known that for a long time.

It was sickening.

But Kate couldn’t just be easily identifiable.

Because she wasn’t _just_ blithe.

Max Caulfield had been much easier to pin down. She was an idiot. Shy - cripplingly so. A romantic. Helpless. Repressed. Bullied, probably. Coddled by her parents, before being shoved into the cruelty of the real world. It had cracked her. Because she was weak.

Brooke had never been weak. Stupid, maybe. Ruthless, certainly. But never _weak._ So she could easily hate Max.

It was easy. Easy to hate.

Certainly easier than…

Whatever.

She could hate Max in peace. For being weak. For collapsing under the smallest push. For being unable to deal with the real world. Love had fattened her up, and when her sustenance was taken away, she folded like a house of cards.

Pathetic.

But she had hated Kate for being stupid. For being an _idiot._ She had hated Kate for being unable to look beneath the surface, for treating people with kindness when she judged them at a glance and treating them with hatred when she found them wanting. She gave people a single glance, and deemed them either _worthy_ or _unworthy._ She protected her friends to the point of coddling. She was blithe.

But she couldn’t hate Kate. Because the girl made it fucking _impossible._

How could she hate Kate? How could she hate the woman, who refused to see anything but the beauty in Max Caulfield’s stupidity? How could she hate the person who wore her watch? How could she hate the girl who _refused_ to be as stupid as she seemed? How could she hate the repressed schoolgirl with a core of steel and a mask of cold courtesy?

Vulnerable to her friends, untouchable to her enemies. Wary and protective. Warm and loving. Impossibly stupid - until, suddenly, she _wasn’t._

And here Brooke was. With a bag of materials from the nearest decent hardware store, the crappiest outfit she could find, and ready to paint for a few hours.

...Right. Kate. Door. Knocking.

_Knock knock knock._

She heard shuffling.

And there she was.

Kate. In all her mid-afternoon glory. Very empty dorm behind her.

With her hair down.

That was good.

“Beverly.” She said, a little more flatly then she’d meant to. She made an effort to make her voice a little brighter. “I hope you’re ready to paint.”

“Yep!” Kate chirped, eyes wide and glittering in the light. “It - uh - should be fun?”

_And be an unbearably long process. And fill your dorm with fumes. And force me to interact with you for far too long. And make us both stress about the tiny imperfections in the cut._

_Oh, sure. Just buckets of fucking fun, Bev._

“With any luck.” She said, shouldering into the dorm and setting down her bag of supplies. She couldn’t help but notice Kate send it a slightly concerned glance. “I’ve forgone primer, because, frankly, it shouldn’t be needed. The color isn’t too different, you don’t have any nails or paintings, so spackle shouldn’t be needed, either. I’ve still got a putty knife for the painters tape, but honestly, this should be a shockingly easy job. We’ll need to move the bed and your desk, but other then that - you’ve got no furniture. We don’t have to bother with the stars, since we aren’t painting the ceiling. I sure hope you don’t care too much for that shirt, by the way.”

Kate sent her shirt a concerned glance, and Brooke couldn’t help but grin at her.

“What’s wrong, Beverly? Not _quite_ ready to paint?”

“Sure I am! I just… have no idea what painting entails.” Kate said, with a tiny smile. “I hope I wasn’t supposed to… prepare or anything?”

“It’s fine.” Brooke said. Kate seemed to miss that she hadn’t actually answered her question. “We’ll just take it step by step. So, first thing’s first - we should get the bed and desk away from the walls. Luckily, you have literally no furniture, and not a single rug, so. This part should be pretty easy.”

“Hey - Brooke?”

Brooke glanced at her.

“Beverly.”

“I just wanted to say - uhm. Thanks. This is really nice of you, and… I know you don’t really know me super well, so… yeah. Thank you.”

Brooke stared at her - for just long enough that Kate started to fidget.

It occurred to her that nobody had ever thanked her before.

For anything.

“It’s… it’s nothing. Don’t mention it,” she tried. It sounded wrong coming out of her mouth.

But Kate just smiled at her. “Okay. I won’t.”

Brooke felt a headache coming on.

Interacting with people was always very hard.

* * *

It took hardly any time between the two of them to move the bed and desk. The floors ended up a little scuffed, but that was fine. It certainly wasn’t Brooke’s problem. By the time they had done that, the room was… practically ready to be painted. Which was a travesty, if Brooke was being honest. This was exactly why she had decided to take Kate’s room on as her latest project.

“That should be good. So, now we’ve just got to take off any outlet covers, lay down a dropcloth, get a step-ladder, and… we should be ready to paint. _God,_ this is awful.”

“...Awful?” Kate said, startling slightly. “What do you mean?”

“This place is practically _sterile._ We should have to clean up the trim, move at least six pieces of furniture, fill any nail holes with spackle. Etcetera. It shouldn’t take ten seconds before we’re moving on to dropcloth and painters tape.”

Kate fiddled with one of her cuffs and smiled sheepishly. “Erm - I like to keep things clean. Empty.”

“That doesn’t mean you should have _nothing._ Jesus.” Brooke glanced around. “You wouldn’t happen to have a screwdriver, would you?”

“...Uhm.”

“Right. There’s one in my room - I toy with robotics in my spare time.” She added, when Kate sent her a slightly confused glance. “Should be on top of the bookshelf. Go fetch it for me - and I assume you’ll need to get the stepladder, too. That should be in the corner.”

Kate nodded, already reaching for the door.

_(This was going to be a long day.)_

* * *

Kate had forgotten just how many bookshelves Brooke had.

She glanced around, eyes stapled to the very top of the room. The shelves weren’t just everywhere - they were _tall._ She’d definitely have a little trouble reaching the toolbox, when she actually saw it.

So she should probably get the stepladder first.

She peered into each corner. Empty, empty, occupied with a bookshelf - blocked by the bed.

It had to be that one.

She walked over to the bed, and leaned over to peer into the corner.

There was a tiny collection of plastic sporks, laid out in meticulous rows. And a stepladder.

Kate made a tiny, triumphant noise in the back of her throat - and leaned over, grabbing the stepladder and pulling away.

She paused when she heard a clatter.

After a moment of nothing less then pure panic - she set down the ladder on the floor next to her, and leaned back into the corner.

And raised her eyebrows.

Because a book was sitting on the floor, where the stepladder had just been.

She leaned over, and grabbed the offending volume - it was pretty thin. Leather-bound, it looked like, with a tiny tear on the jacket.

_It must’ve been on the stepladder._

She turned it over - and blanched.

  
  


**_Brooke’s_ **

**_Diary_ **

**_(and/or journal and/or notepad)_ **

_...I shouldn’t read this._

It was a kind of vague knowledge that tickled at the back of her head - even as she began to crack the book open to the middle.

The page was filled. The print was thin and scratchy, packed in with meticulous order and just the tiniest bit hard to read. A dyslexic’s nightmare.

Kate squinted just a little.

_August 17th_

_Dearest diary,  
_ _It’s me again. I have to wonder if you ever wish you could talk to other people. You certainly aren’t sentient, but still. Perhaps I could be reincarnated as a diary. It would be interesting, reading the woes of the average idiot.  
_ _I’m going to Blackwell in a week. I’m not excited. I do hope I won’t have to break someone’s ankle again. That got me landed in detention last time. Maybe I should just kill someone this time. Spread a rumour that I have some kind of crippling anger management issue. Make people think I’m a truly unstable, dangerous individual.  
_ _Eh. Too much work._

Kate flipped the page.

_August 18th  
_ _Not in the mood to write today.  
_ _August 19th  
_ _Not in the mood to write today.  
_ _August 20th  
_ _Dearest diary,  
_ _Oh Thursday. Do you capitalize Thursday? I forget. I shouldn’t forget. I’m not in the mood to remember, I suppose.  
_ _It’s been a bit. I hope I don’t offend you when I don’t write. I doubt you’re very sensitive. Doesn’t seme the kind of problem a diary would have to deal with.  
_ _It’s a good day. I’m in a decent mood. I laid in bed five minutes before managing to get up. Took a shower. I feel clean. Well - physically, anyway.  
_ _Maybe I should kill someone.  
_ _Someone’s going to think I’m a murderer anyway, one of these days.  
_ _Who gives a shit.  
_ _I’m not going to kill anyone.  
_ _Have a good day, diary. Because I’m not going to.  
_ _Have a good day for me._

Kate bit her lip.

This was… private. She should stop reading. These were private thoughts, they weren’t for her to look into.

Besides, Brooke would be expecting her at this point.

...But this was important. This was an insight into how Brooke thought, that Kate _desperately_ needed. 

This was…

Growing more concerning by the second.

The next three days were just _not in the mood to write today._

_August 24th  
_ _Dearest diary,  
_ _First day of school.  
_ _Will write more after the day is over.  
_ _August 24th (cont.)  
_ _Dearest diary,  
_ _The day is over. It went as expected. Nobody is interesting. The other smart person in class is very uninteresting. Or smart people, I suppose. Evan Harris and Kate Marsh are the students with good grades. They aren’t worth paying attention to. I’ve decided to not think of them unless I have to.  
_ _It hurts to move. Is that on the external or internal side?_

And… it ended there.

This was growing more concerning by the second.

She should stop.

_(Maybe she could finally learn about Brooke’s scars, though.)_

...She flipped the page.

_August 25th  
_ _Not in the mood to write today.  
_ _August 26th  
_ _Dearest diary,  
_ _I got a drone. I took it apart and put it back together again.  
_ _August 27th  
_ _Not in the mood to write today.  
_ _August 28th  
_ _Dearest diary,  
_ _Happy Friday. I have work to do during the weekend. Maybe I’ll even do it. Who knows.  
_ _Life has gotten back to being obligations.  
_ _Oh me, oh life.  
_ _August 29th,  
_ _Dearest diary,  
_ _I laid in bed for four hours before getting up. I’m going to wear my rubber band today.  
_ _My hands smell funny. I don’t want to wash them.  
_ _It hurts to move. It’s internal._

...Rubber band?

Brooke was confusing.

But this was… concerning.

On the one hand, it was buried in subtext and more then a bit confusing. Nothing was explicitly spelled out - probably because Brooke wasn’t writing this for her. But at the same time…

There was definitely some suggestions that Brooke was going through something really bad. From as short a time ago as the start of the school year.

_(She couldn’t stay here much longer. She still had to get that screwdriver.)_

...One more page.

Instantly, her eyes were drawn to the right.

Because there was a picture there.

It was drawn in ink. A girl was silhouetted on what looked like the edge of a building. Everything was obscured by what looked like fog and rain - though it was so utterly thick that nothing was really very clear.

Despite that, it looked… good. Almost surprisingly so, considering how unclear it was.

She started to read.

_August 30th  
_ _Not in the mood to write today.  
_ _August 31st  
_ _Dearest diary,  
_ _I’m ready for September. The month names get uncreative after September. All embers.  
_ _I like embers. Ms. Rakepick was worried I might be an arsonist in the making after that comment.  
_ _I never liked her too much.  
_ _Judgemental bitch.  
_ _September 1st  
_ _Not in the mood to write today.  
_ _September 2nd  
_ _Not in the mood to write today.  
_ _September 3rd  
_ _Dearest diary,  
_ _It’s Thursday. Again.  
_ _My grades are slipping.  
_ _Obligations on obligations.  
_ _September 4th,  
_ _Dearest diary,  
_ _Didn’t get out of my bed. Missed all my classes. Laid for six hours.  
_ _Can’t think. Trying to go outside. Will write tomorrow.  
_ _September 5th,  
_ _Dearest diary,  
_ _Got out of bed faster today. Thirty minutes or so. I want to say I’m proud of myself.  
_ _Maybe I could be a pirate. That might spice things up. Torture people to death for treasure. Etc.  
_ _I dressed up as a pirate for Halloween one year.  
_ _I want to draw. Thoughts are mostly safe today, but sometimes desires aren’t just distractions from stupid voices.  
_ _Saw a pretty girl today. She’s an idiot. I didn’t get my hopes up. I considered just kissing her. See what it felt like.  
_ _That’s sexual assault, though.  
_ _I think I’ll draw her. But with me.  
_ _Done. The picture is awful. I think I’m going to be sick whenever I look at it.  
_ _I tried. Ms. Rakepick would say that that’s what’s important._  
 _Self-important whore._

And that was all.

Kate stared at the picture.

It was… really good. She couldn’t see how Brooke could find it _sickening._

And who was Ms. Rakepick?

She closed the diary, and set it back in the corner. Her eyes drifted up again.

She tried not to think about what she had read.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that tight text wasn't too hard to read for anyone. I thought it was most in-character for Brooke to write as tightly as possible. And as quickly as possible. I imagine she has pretty messy handwriting, too - or cursive.
> 
> Whenever I'm having a lot of trouble writing a certain character, I usually try to find something about them that I can personally relate to, and build from there. I didn't have to do that for any of the LiS characters, but sometimes I can't quite write a character unless I imagine them playing a certain instrument, or listening to a certain type of music, or having a certain type of handwriting. It really helps me felsh out a character in my head.
> 
> So I kinda just did that automatically for Brooke. She totally writes tight and fast. Unlike Kate - who writes really straight and pretty. Does her best to make sure her notes look good. Max just makes sure her's are legible. Chloe doesn't give a shit - she just writes as fast and messy as possible. In my head, anyway. It probably isn't actually like that in the game, but uh. I haven't been religious about following the game so far, so.
> 
> They should actually get to painting next time. Hope you enjoyed.
> 
> Wallflower,
> 
> -Howard R.


	27. Penny Lane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Brooke and Kate actually start painting.

When Kate came back, she had a stepladder and a toolbox.

“You didn’t need to get the whole box, you know.” Brooke said, picking a piece of lint off her shirt.

Kate flushed. “I - uhm - didn’t really think about it. I could bring it back-?”

“Oh, be quiet.” Brooke said, leaning forward to snatch the box up. “You need to get over that.”

“...’That’?” Kate asked, making air quotes as she did.

“Your insecurities. They’re annoying.” 

Kate blinked.

“You expect me to just…  _ get over _ them?”

“No. I don’t. You need to get over them, though. Which is why I said that, instead of demanding you do so right away.”

Kate wondered if Brooke analyzed every word before it left her mouth, or if she just took the literal meaning of everything automatically.

_ (She also wondered if Brooke had prepared by dressing up in an outfit she didn’t care about - because, if so, she looked absolutely wonderful in apparently garbage clothes.) _

“...You’re weird, Brooke.”

Brooke snorted.

“Dropping some real bombshells, Beverly. Next you’ll say I’m a brunette.”

Kate grinned.

“You’re really pretty.”

Brooke, for a second, didn’t respond.

She blinked.

Twice.

“...Pardon?”

Kate giggled, trying not to flush red.

“I said that you’re really pretty.”

Brooke blinked. Again.

“...So I didn’t mishear you.”

“Guess not.” Kate offered, grinning from ear to ear.

“...That’s. I. Uhm.”

Kate hadn’t ever realized how adorable Brooke would be if she were rendered speechless.

“We’ve gotta unscrew the outlet covers, right?” Kate said, still grinning.

“That’s. Uh - yes. Yes, that’s… what we have to do. Yes. Let’s get to that.”

Brooke glanced down, and popped open the toolbox - before taking out a screwdriver. Her movements grew a little less robotic as she did - and she tossed it up and caught it, once. It almost seemed to reboot her - and her eyes seemed to light up again as her movements grew slick and easy.

“Well, I have no idea where your outlets are,” Brooke said, voice easy and smooth once again. She seemed very determined to firmly ignore what had just happened - which was fine with Kate, honestly. “So why don’t you take the screwdriver and take them out, while I lay some painters tape along the trim. Once we do that, we should be able to just lay down a drop cloth and… get to work.”

Kate tried not to think about how Brooke might react to a surprise kiss on the cheek.

Or just a plain kiss.

“...Beverly.”   


Kate startled.

“Huh? Sorry - what?”

“You unscrew your outlet covers.” Brooke said, sounding very tired at this point. She offered Kate the screwdriver handle-first. “I’ll lay the drop cloth and some painters tape. Then we can get to work.”

“Oh. Okay. Yeah, I can do that.” Kate muttered, taking the screwdriver and trying  _ really _ hard not to think anything sinful. 

(She didn’t quite succeed.)

* * *

_ Oh me, oh life. _

“Alright, that should be good.” Brooke said, as Kate set the outlet covers on the desk they had just moved. “Help me lay some painters tape. Just press it along the trim - we’ll go back over it with a putty knife later, make sure it’s well-stuck. And then we… should be ready to paint.”

“Alrighty then!” Kate chirped, taking a roll of painters tape from the bag. “This was easy enough!”

“It shouldn’t’ve been this easy.” Brooke said, flatly. Trying to muster up some proper anger over how much Kate had been repressing herself.

She failed.

It was hard to care much.

“It should’ve taken quite a bit. But you’ve kept this place practically empty.”

Kate, worryingly, looked quite proud at this statement.

“Well, cool! At this rate, we’ll be done in no time!”

Brooke rolled her eyes.

“Mm-hm. Get to laying, Bev.”

Kate gave her a two-finger salute, and a grin.

_ (Her headache was getting worse by the second. She should ask if Kate had some ibuprofen.) _

_ (...Who cared.) _

* * *

Once all the tape was laid and the dropcloth set, Kate smiled proudly, hands on her hips.

Brooke stared at her.

_ (There was something utterly sickening, in a fascinating sort of way, about the way people looked when proud.) _

“Alright - let’s get painting!”

Brooke let out a slow, quiet breath, and wondered when exactly she had become  _ friends _ with this fool.

“Let’s,” she said, voice dead. “I got two brushes. I have some of my own, but they aren’t made for painting walls.”

“You… have brushes?”

Kate gave her an interested glance. Brooke wondered what stage of corpse decay this girl would have to get to before she stopped repeating/asking about things she’d  _ just said. _

“Yes. I’m an art major.”

Kate blinked.

“Really?”

Before Brooke could manage a very flat  _ yes really, _ Kate was plowing on with a smile.

“That’s awesome!”

“Not particularly.” Brooke said, dipping her paintbrush into the five-gallon bucket she’d gotten. They only had two gallons, but mixing them together in a larger bucket would make sure to even out any tiny differences in shade. “Now, Beverly, I would like to actually get some painting done today. So - hold the brush like a pencil and start painting along the top. We’ll do a basic outline, and then get to work with the rollers.”

Kate gave her a two-finger salute - and giggled.

Brooke didn’t smile.

A pointed look at the bucket later, Kate was actually starting to paint.

“Wait-”

Brooke paused, brush inches away from the wall.

“What about the music?” Kate asked, as she drew a slow, careful stroke along the top of the wall.

Brooke blanched.

“...Let’s forego music, actually. Unless you want to choose some.”

Kate blinked.

“You’d let  _ me _ pick the music?”

“Obviously.”

“But - you, like, called it!”

“Mm.”

Kate stared at her for a moment.

“...You’re weird, Brooke.”

“So you’ve said.”

Kate smiled. “Okay, though! I can choose some music.”

Brooke was already beginning to regret this.

* * *

“Seriously? The Beatles?”

“What’s wrong with The Beatles?” Kate said, flipping her brush and tapping her foot to ‘Penny Lane’.

“Nothing, if you’re thirty and living in the past.”

Kate grinned. “I’m getting there.”

Brooke rolled her eyes.

“ _In the pouring rain,_ ” Kate hummed - and offered her yet another wide smile. “ _Very strange._ ”

“Why did I ever decide to do this.” Brooke muttered, trying to ignore how ridiculous it felt in this lighthearted music - and in the face of Kate’s blinding smile.

“Because I’m the best?” Kate offered, with another stroke of her brush.

“You’re a dill, is what you are.”

Kate raised her eyebrows, smiling slightly. “Dill?”

“Dill, noun, 1A: A naive or foolish person.”

Kate gasped, laying a hand on her heart.

“My feelings! I’ve been hit!”

“You’re impossible.” Brooke muttered.

"Impossibly wonderful when it comes to my taste in music?"

“I’m surrounded by idiots.” Brooke rubbed her temple, tilting her head down so Kate couldn’t see her smile.

“Hey! I’m not an idiot!”

Brooke glanced up, and raised an eyebrow.

“You have paint in your hair.”

Kate startled, arm whipping to her side - so her brush wasn’t dripping paint onto her anymore.

“...Be quiet.”

Brooke snickered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The day of spoops is nearly upon us. Me and my significant other are gonna spend the day inside watching some old horror movies. Might get some hot chocolate, too, if the significant other is in the mood to indulge my sweet tooth - which they probably will be. Maybe some Milk Duds, too - to put in the popcorn. Chocolate and popcorn is the best combination on this green earth.
> 
> Yep, Brooke is still my favorite.
> 
> I've had this chapter done for a little bit now - but I knew I wouldn't be writing for a little while, so I decided to hold off. I intended this chapter to go on a little while longer, anyway, but whatevs. I'm still happy with it. Kinda.
> 
> Have a good few days. I'll try to have another chapter out by Halloween, but. No promises.
> 
> Wallflower,
> 
> -Howard R.


	28. First Date, 1: We'll See

_ Brrring. _

_ Brr- _

_ “Chloe?” _

**“Hello, Ms. Caulfield? We’re calling to tell you your bulk order of plush penguins is ready to be delivered.”**

_ “I - Chloe, what… what’re you talking about?” _

**“I sincerely hope you’re ready to pay the five thousand dollars you owe for these plushies, Ms. Caulfield.”**

_ “Chloe, I can hear you outside the door.” _

**“We need you to sign for these plushies, Ms. Caulfield. Stop stalling and answer the door so you may be fined.”**

_ “...” _

* * *

Max opened the door, hanging up on Chloe as she did - and was wholeheartedly  _ not _ ready for a widely smiling Chloe standing in front of her door, with a bouquet of flowers.

“A night of enchantment awaits, my queen.” She said, leaning a little and hanging her head, holding out the flowers.

Max’s face lit fire.

She burrowed her head in her hands, trying to ignore the seeping warmth that came from somewhere in the pit of her stomach - and gave out a muffled groan.

_ “Whyyyyy.” _

“Because I saw a vendor selling on the street, and thought of you.” Chloe said very simply, pushing the flowers towards her - trying very hard to look serious, but seemingly unable to stop herself from smiling, just a little.

Max gave her the best glare she could - even as she resigned herself to taking the flowers.

...They  _ were _ nice flowers, though…

“Why did I  _ ever _ agree to this?” She managed to mutter, looking anywhere but Chloe.

“Technically, you didn’t - seeing as you were the one who asked me out.  _ I _ was the one who agreed.” Chloe offered, leaning against her doorframe - and then, suddenly, she clapped her hands together.

“Anyway! We’ve gotta get going! I’ve got a whole day planned for us-”

Max blinked, throwing up her eyebrows a little.

“-And we haven’t the time to waste, idling here.” Chloe went on, stepping back from her door and gesturing down the hall, to the stairwell. “Let us get to the romantic section of the evening, my queen.”

_ “Please _ stop calling me that.” She muttered, stepping past Chloe so she could hide the fiery blush that possessed her face.

“Your wish is my command, honeysuckles.”

Max groaned.

* * *

“You’ve got a  _ whole day _ planned?”

Chloe turned to Max - who had apparently managed to get her adorable embarrassment under control - and grinned.

“It’ll be the best first date ever!” She said, looping an arm around Max’s shoulders - much to the girl’s apparent discomfort. “Only the best for you, dearest cinnamon bun.”

“Please - no pet names.” Max muttered - though she didn’t try to maneuver out of Chloe’s loose grip, and the punk could’ve  _ sworn _ that sparkle in her eyes was the start of a smile.

“Alright, babe.”

Max turned her head into Chloe’s ribs, and groaned.

“Y’know,” Chloe said thoughtfully - considering moving her arm to Max’s waist as she did. “Considering  _ you _ asked  _ me _ out, I thought you’d be more on board with this.”

“Yeah, but…” Max turned away, huddling her arms at her stomach. “I wasn’t expecting you to be all…”

Max considered.

_ “You.” _ She said, finally.

Chloe grinned - darting forward so she could open the door out of the stairwell for Max.

“So, Mad Max - wanna take a guess at what I have in store for us this lovely afternoon?”

Max speed-walked out the door and into the parking lot - Chloe followed her - and, once she was outside, murmured a quick,

“If I had to guess - committing a crime.”

“Nerp!” Chloe exclaimed - and then paused. “Though, if the mood strikes you at any point, I certainly won’t say no.”

Max looked skyward, and closed her eyes before answering.

_ “Please _ don’t do anything illegal, Chloe.”

“...Well, since you asked so nicely…”

For a second, Max looked relieved - but Chloe wasn’t passing up this opportunity.

“For a kiss.”

Max froze.

_ “Chloe.” _ She said - and glared at her.

Chloe grinned back.

“Max?”

“Come  _ onnn.” _ She whined. “Just - refrain from committing a crime for  _ one day?” _

“I will-” Chloe said - and leaned forward, waggling her eyebrows. “For just one little kiss, Max.”

Max was quickly turning a very bright shade of pink.

But, after a long moment - she darted forward, and pressed the quickest kiss she could to Chloe’s cheek.

“I meant on the lips, Max.”

Max rolled her eyes, looking pointedly away from her.

“You should’ve specified, then.” Max muttered, sticking her hands in her pockets. “No crimes.”

Chloe grinned.

“Well, anything for you, hun.”

Max groaned again.

Chloe could already tell that this was going to be a great day.

* * *

“You hungry?”

Max turned to Chloe - she had managed to maneuver her way out of her very warm, very soft grasp, and by now they were walking along the sidewalk together.

“Depends. Is this going to end with an innuendo?” Max muttered, with a sharp eye.

Chloe laughed.

“No, it isn’t. For real. You hungry?”

“I could eat.”

Chloe raised an eyebrow, and smiled.

“You okay with burning off a bit more energy first? Work up a good appetite?”

Max considered.

And nodded.

“Dope! To the first romantic activity of the day!” She called, grabbing Max’s hand and tugging her along as she ran down the sidewalk.

Max struggled to keep up with her, and didn’t even bother trying to stamp down her massive, goofy smile. Chloe couldn’t see it anyway.

“What are we even going to be doing?” Max called back, holding a hand up against the glare of the sun.

Chloe pulled to a screeching halt.

Max plowed right into her back.

Chloe let out an audible ‘oof’ as she fell onto the sidewalk - meaning, technically, she got the blunt of the impact.

But Max would’ve traded with her in an instant - because  _ she _ was the one who had to land on Chloe, in a tangle of limbs and warmth.

When she came to her senses, and managed to mostly disentangle herself from Chloe - she found herself propped up, with a blue-haired punk right below her, staring right back at her and giving her  _ that  _ look.

And then, suddenly,  _ she _ was the one on the concrete - and Chloe’s calloused hands were on her shoulders, gently digging into her skin, and perfectly blue eyes as deep as ravines were sparkling at her.

And Chloe  _ grinned. _

The breath left her.

“Well,” Chloe murmured - and her voice was thick and husky as anything else. “We could just… stay here a while…”

Max, for a moment, scrambled for a single coherent thought. 

She only found one when she managed to tear her eyes away from Chloe, and look past her - up into the perfectly blue sky, just starting to get a little warmer in shade.

Max pushed, weakly, at Chloe’s shoulders.

“Get up, idiot.” She muttered, looking  _ anywhere _ but at Chloe. “We’ve got plans, right?”

“...Well,” Chloe said, sitting up easily and dusting off her shirt - Max instantly felt the pressure leave her chest. “I suppose we can go on to the first completely romantic and wonderful activity of the day - if my beautiful date wishes it to be so.”

Max lit red.

“Be quiet.” She muttered, standing up as quickly as she could and scuffing a heel on the concrete - once again not quite managing to look at Chloe.

“But it’s the truth! You look wonderful, Max. The flower clip is a nice touch. And purple is  _ so _ your color.”

Max fingered the pink flower bud clip in her hair, and just barely smiled - tilting her head down so her bangs covered it. She looked stupid when she smiled.

“...Thanks. You look…”

Max glanced up.

She hadn’t even really noticed Chloe’s clothes. She’d been more focused on her face, and her attitude. And the flowers she’d delivered. But it was clear that Chloe had… actually made an effort to look nice.

Her hair was much straighter then normal - unlike the tangled mess of bangs it usually was. She’d forgone her beanie, too. She had on a red plaid button-up shirt, that was tucked into her jeans - unripped, for once. And, just to fill it out, she had on a loose, thin, long light-brown jacket that went all the way down to her knees - almost closer to a dress in the way it flowed around her.

It was a little weird, but… fitting.

She looked…

“Perfect.”

The second the word slipped out of her mouth, Max felt her eyes go wide - and she flushed all the way to her collar.

“Uh - I mean-”

Chloe’s laugh cut her off.

When she glanced up, she couldn’t help but notice that Chloe had a little pink dusting her cheeks, too.

“Well - uh - thanks, Max.” She said, voice a little soft.

And she smiled  _ that _ smile - the soft, quiet, perfect one.

Luckily, Max didn’t have to scramble for an answer before Chloe was plowing on.

“Anyway - a night of enchantment still awaits! Come on, let’s get to doing romantic things! I want there to be extra time afterwards for cuddling!”

Okay, thank God, things were back to normal - her blushing furiously and Chloe grinning like a hyena.

_ “No cuddling, _ Chloe.” She said, as sternly as she could manage.

_ (She’d learned her lesson after last night. Cuddling with Chloe was simply too risky.) _

“We’ll see, Max.” Chloe said, with a sneaky squint and cunning grin - before she rubbed her hands together like a supervillain.

_ “We’ll see.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween!
> 
> It's currently 15 degrees Celsius, or 60 degrees Fahrenheit in my home. I'm wearing mismatched socks. My significant other is playing video games while I upload this. 
> 
> I'm listening to The Nightfly. It's a jazz album by Donald Fagen. So good times all 'round.
> 
> It feels good to be back to writing this dynamic. Like slipping into an old sweater.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed,
> 
> -Howard R.


	29. Extras: Brooke's Diary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some extra diary entries.

_ September 5th _

_ Not in the mood to write today _

_ September 6th _

_ Dearest diary, _

_ Monday tomorrow. I’m not particularly excited. _

_ I had homework to do over the weekend. I didn’t do it. _

_ September 7th _

_ Not in the mood to write today. _

_ September 8th _

_ Dearest Diary, _

_ I sat on the porch step a long time today. Had a cup of coffee. Watched the passerby. _

_ The pretty girl I drew turned out to be someone called Rachel Amber. She went to get coffee at the same parlour I go to. An odd coincidence. _

_ A more idiotic person would call it fate. _

_ September 9th _

_ Dearest Diary, _

_ I sat in the shop while I drank my coffee today. Rachel Amber came to the shop again. She has a friend - though that specific term is a little up in the air, because there’s certainly some romantic tension there. Maybe her friend - Chloe Price - is asexual. That would start to explain the odd romantic mood but lack of anything sexual. Or maybe I’m bad at reading people. The latter is more likely. _

_ Neither of them noticed me. _

_ September 10th _

_ Dearest Diary, _

_ Happy Thursday. _

_ September 11th _

_ Not in the mood to write today. _

_ September 12th _

_ Dearest Diary, _

_ I drew in the coffee parlour today. Rachel Amber came in. She noticed me this time. Her friend wasn’t with her. _

_ She asked about my art. I showed her a picture to shut her up. She said something idiotic. _

_ My interest in her has begun to wane. _

_ She asked if I could draw a picture of her. I wanted to say I already had, but that might be seen as stalker-ish, and I didn’t want her to make a scene. _

_ So, instead, I told her to go suck a lemon. _

_ That’s a fun phrase. Haven’t had an excuse to use that one in a while. _

_ With the reaction she had, you’d think I’d slapped her. Gobsmacked is the only word for it. _

_ Moron. _

_ September 13th _

_ Dearest Diary, _

_ We need weekend Wednesday in Blackwell. _

_ September 14th _

_ Not in the mood to write today. _

_ September 15th _

_ Bad day. Wore my rubber band. Laid in bed for a while. I’m not sure how long. I didn’t check the time - it was dark when I woke up. _

_ I like the dark. _

_ When I managed to get up, I had enough time to get to history class. We’re starting a group project. _

_ I paired up with Kate Marsh. She seems bearable. _

_ September 16th _

_ Not in the mood to write today. _

_ September 17th _

_ Dearest Diary, _

_ Happy Thursday.  _

_ I finished our assignment in history - but apparently that was just a short pop-quiz-esque assignment, for an actual project. A full one. It starts Monday. That should be bothersome to complete on my own - but I won’t have Kate Marsh getting her idiotic hands on work that will have my name on it. _

_ September 18th _

_ Not in the mood to write today. _

_ September 19th _

_ Dearest Diary, _

_ It’s Saturday. I laid in bed for a while before getting up. _

_ I feel disgusting. I took a shower. It didn’t help. _

_ I still have yet to talk to Kate Marsh about our project. We have to present it together, so she’ll have to read it over before we do so. So she can read aloud. Problem being, I have no way of sending it to her. _

_ I’ll ask her for her email tomorrow. _

_ I am reluctantly curious about what her dorm will be like. _

_ I imagine - religious memorabilia, bible quotes, a board fo some kind for post-its and bookmarks. Maybe a Keurig - but not for coffee. For tea. Maybe just a classic tea set. _

_ I think I’ll draw it. With Kate Marsh in the middle - sitting on her bed. She’ll make a decent subject. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are some entries that Kate will never end up reading. It also forced me to actually work out a timeline for this story, which was kind of a hassle. It was kinda fun, too.
> 
> I didn't quite manage to publish my Halloween one-shot before now. I guess it could also work as a Christmas thing, though - especially because it's kinda starting to spiral out into something bigger then I intended. Maybe it'll even turn into a two-shot, though I doubt that. Probably just a long one-shot still.
> 
> Oh, and did you notice that Rachel has yet to meet Brooke in this story? Well, it was intentional! Rachel is actually the only character left that hasn't met Brooke - and, again. It's intentional.
> 
> Weird chapter, that opened up a whole Pandora's Box of ideas in my head.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed. I planned to publish the First Date one after the other, but... maybe it'll be first date chapter - normal chapter - first date chapter kind of order. That would certainly make it a little bit easier. Or maybe this'll be the only interruption.
> 
> Who knows.
> 
> Wallflower,
> 
> -Howard R.


End file.
